


What the Future May Hold

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, This was a prompt from another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22824430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: Hey Everyone!I'm taking a break from Les Parrains to tackle this very old prompt that was up at my writing friend Elenduen's site.I've wanted to do this for a long time and figured if I didn't try and tackle it now it would never get done.I'm also posting this up on her site as well.Let me know if you think I should continue with this?See notes at bottom.++++
Comments: 107
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

_En route back to the inn_

Having successfully cleared Athos of any wrongdoing, and seemingly accepted into the inseparable's fold, d'Artagnan needed to go back to the inn where he lost papa. More than likely the innkeeper had already buried him however he wanted to pay his last respects to the man that had raised him. His new friends wanted to go with him but d'Artagnan had told them that he needed to do this alone. Coming up to the inn he felt like his heart was held in a vise. Swallowing a huge lump that had built up in his throat, d'Artagnan swiped at his eyes. Slowing Zad down he drew in front of the building. Jumping down he tied his horse to one of the posts.

Slowing making his way inside d'Artagnan's gaze landed upon the floor. The bloodstain was still there, marking the place where papa stood when shot. Lifting his eyes from the spot he then encountered an older man. Ah, the proprietor. Walking toward the innkeeper, d'Artagnan at first was at a loss for words. Quickly though the other man began to speak and what the proprietor told him seemed impossible. " _Papa lives? How could that be? He died in my arms!_ " Feeling this was a poor joke made at his expense, d'Artagnan drew out his sword. Observing the innkeeper jumping back in shock, he immediately felt bad. "Explain to me what you just said again?"

"Monsieur," nervously wringing his hands, Marc-André stuttered out his explanation. "After you brought... your... père's body... inside you left so... quickly that I didn't have... time to let... you know that... that there was still a pulse." Sighing, running a shaky hand down the back of his neck, he took in the look of disbelief still upon the boy's face. "I had one of my men help me take your père up to an empty room and then sent him to fetch the local docteur." Laying a gentle hand upon the lad's arm, Marc-André gave the youth a grave look. "After treating him the physician told me that your père would recover. But as for the injury to the man's head twould be up to God."

"What do you mean... _an injury to papa's head_?" Confusion filled him. He remembered papa walking out of the inn straight toward him before keeling over into the mud. Concerned as he was with the amount of blood blossoming from papa's chest, d'Artagnan hadn't noted any other wound.

"After that canaille shot him he also bashed your père in the back of his head with a musket." Watching various emotions crossing the youngster's face, Marc-André motioned for the boy to follow him. "Just be prepared."

"Prepared for what exactly?" Honestly, d'Artagnan hadn't meant to snap at the proprietor. The man had done more than was clearly expected of him, under the circumstances, and he should be grateful.

Lowering his voice, as they were getting closer to the room where the elder d'Artagnan rested, Marc-André said, "He may not recognize you."

Heart plummeting to his feet, d'Artagnan swayed slightly. Steadying himself with a hand upon the wall, he took in several deep breaths. He could do this. Just keep telling yourself that. He kept up that mantra until he stepped into the room and faced papa. The blank look directed at him from the person d'Artagnan loved the most told its own story. Kneeling by the bedside, he took papa's hand into his own. "Papa, tis Charles. Do you remember me?" The shake of the elder's head brought more sorrow to d'Artagnan. Holding back tears that had been threatening, ever since the proprietor's announcement about the added injury, he blinked them away.

Weak from blood loss, along with the agonizing pain from his head wound, Alexandre stared back at the boy. "Am... I supposed to... know... you?"

Despair filled d'Artagnan at the question. Releasing papa's hand, he stood back up. Blowing out a long breath, turning around, he glanced over at the innkeeper. The latter giving him a sympathetic look shrugged. Facing papa again, d'Artagnan grimaced. "Oui... I'm your son."

Wrinkling his forehead, trying to concentrate, it did nothing at all for the pounding in his head. Alexandre continued to stare at the lad. "Forgive... me... then."

"There's nothing to forgive." Bending over, d'Artagnan placed a kiss upon papa's brow. "Just rest. I have some things to do and then I'll be back." Not expecting a response, d'Artagnan followed the proprietor out of the room and back down the staircase. "The coin I gave you to take care of him was originally for his burial. I'm glad that wasn't needed." Wincing slightly, d'Artagnan pressed on. "Was it enough for the physician?"

"Oui, there was even a bit left over so you needn't worry about paying me anything extra." Marc-André felt terrible about what had happened in his inn. If the boy needed time to get things together, he didn't mind. "Now get on with you so you can hurry back to your père." Marc-André knew the lad wouldn’t be overly long in returning. His inn was only an hours journey from Paris.

"Merci, Monsieur Tailler" Remembering to finally ask the innkeeper’s name, albeit a tad later than he should have, he was grateful beyond belief for the older man’s care of his injured parent. Departing, he mounted Zad to journey back to the Garrison. Feeling quite numb, after all the revelations, he wasn’t sure what to do. About to make a new life for himself, training to become a Musketeer, he now had the added responsibility of taking care of papa. There wasn't any way that his parent could run the farm in the condition he was currently in. And there was a good possibility that papa would remain as he was.

Having avenged himself for papa's supposed death, d'Artagnan had been filled with the excitement of being with the Musketeers. After a taste of that life, he wanted more. Perhaps Captain Treville could be of some help in that regard. The officer had been friends with papa back in Lupiac. If d'Artagnan had to trade upon that, he'd take what he could get. Shaking away his concerns for the moment, he headed back to Paris.

++++

_Over an hour later - Garrison courtyard_

“Wonder what’s takin’ the whelp so long.” Pulling out his poignard from the target, Porthos exchanged curious looks with his brothers.

With a casual shrug of one shoulder, Aramis dismissed Porthos’ interest in the young cadet. Aiming for the bullseye he drew his arm back and then with accurate forward momentum hit the target dead on. Turning around, wearing a smirk, Aramis’ eyebrow rose.

“Athos, tell me at least you’re curious as to why d’Artagnan hasn’t returned?” Going over to the target Porthos pulled out the marksman’s poignard and handed it over to Aramis.

“The pup is probably finding it hard to leave his père behind.” Polishing his sword, until it nearly blinded him, Athos too tried not to dwell upon why his protégé was taking so long to return.

“Bien, speak of le diable.” Watching the Gascon youth ride past the Garrison gates, Porthos noted that something was slightly off with the kid but couldn’t quite put a finger upon it.

"Hola, d'Artagnan." Expecting the boy to reciprocate the greeting, Aramis frowned as the youngster rode right past him.

"What's up with that?" Scratching his chin, Porthos studied the whelp's posture. Twas screaming out at him that something was dreadfully wrong. The kid was slouched over looking as if he was carrying the weight of the world upon his slim shoulders.

Putting aside his sword, Athos joined his two friends in observing their pup. Noting that d'Artagnan handed off his horse to one of their brethren to take care of, he frowned upon watching the lad head for Treville's office. This cannot be good.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

As soon as he told d'Artagnan to enter, Treville instantly knew something else had happened. "Sit down before you fall down, lad." The youngster's feet dragged across the floor until the boy sat down in front of him. "I should have gone with you. I knew twould be a hard thing for you to do upon your own but I was bogged down with the king's business."

"Tis not that, Sir." Meeting the officer's eyes, d'Artagnan didn't know where to begin. Somehow he found his voice and explained all of it.

Amazed at this turn of events, Treville didn't utter a sound. His old friend was still alive. Thanking God for that alone, he understood the hardship Alexandre now faced... and that of his friend's son.

"I don't know if I have the courage to face all of this," mumbled d'Artagnan, more to the floor than to the older man before him.

" _Courage_ , d'Artagnan, doesn't always roar." Treville gave the lad a fond smile. "Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying - I will try again upon the morrow."

"I shall endeavor to remember your words but I still don't know what to do." Slumping back in his chair, d'Artagnan closed his eyes. "I had made up my mind to stay here and earn my commission but with papa alive I guess I'll have to go back to the farm."

"Are you going to be able to handle the workload? Aside from dealing with your père's handicap, if you don't have enough help you'll work yourself into an early grave." His voice turning gruff, Treville remembered what farming entailed. Having lived in Lupiac until he decided a solder's life was for him, he understood what d'Artagnan was going to face. "I shouldn't have to tell you that."

"Then tell me what I should do? For I'm at a loss." Reluctantly admitting that much, d'Artagnan couldn't meet the captain's eyes. It wasn't until he felt a finger underneath his chin tipping his head back up that his own eyes locked upon the officer's again.

"I'll help you come up with some sort of plan." Patting the lad's shoulder a few times, Treville went back to sit behind his desk. "In the meantime have Athos, Porthos and Aramis go along with you when you go back to the inn and take one of the wagons as well. Alexandre would be more comfortable lying down I would think."

Once again upon his feet, d'Aragnan stared at the captain. "I know I should be rejoicing that papa didn't die but if he never gets his memory back..." his voice faded away.

"One step at a time, lad. One step at a time. Now go grab something to eat from Serge and then head back to the inn with the others." One eyebrow shooting up, Treville waited until the boy's feet began to move leading the lad to the exit. Once the door closed, his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. Sighing deeply, Treville's mind began to think upon how he could help the d'Artagnan's out.

++++

_Notes:_

_Canaille_ \- scoundrel  
_Hola_ \- hello

 _Quote: "Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying 'I will try again tomorrow"_. - from Aunty Acid


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early afternoon - En route back to the inn_

Porthos, in charge of the wagon, kept thinking back to what the whelp had divulged about the kid's père's resurrection of sorts. A sideways glance at the pup's face told him absolutely nothing of what the boy was feeling. Noting how both his friends sandwiched d'Artagnan in with their horses, Porthos bit back a rough laugh. Both men were mother-henning the youngster but he wouldn't call them out over it.

"Tis a miracle you know, lad." Aramis' remark didn't get the result he hoped for, as the young Gascon remained silent.

"If I still believed in the power of prayer," drawled Athos, "I would go down upon my knees in thanks." He too received nothing but silence. More than concerned over the lack of emotion coming from his protégé, he tried again. "D'Artagnan." Nothing. The boy remained mute. Rolling his eyes, Athos leaned over carefully to touch his protégé's arm. The startled reaction he received nearly was his undoing for suddenly the youth drew out a pistol to aim it back at him.

" _D'ARTAGNAN!_ " Sharply calling out the pup's name, Aramis readied himself to take their newest cadet on himself before d'Artagnan fired that weapon. " _SNAP OUT OF IT!_ "

Blinkng a few times, d'Artagnan became aware of his surroundings again and that of his worried friends. Staring down at his hand, holding the pistol, he frowned in confusion. Why did he have this out?

"Excusez-moi." Reaching over, Aramis delicately removed the weapon from the boy's lax fingers. "This is best safer with me." Tucking the extra pistol into his own weapons belt, he let out the breath he'd been holding.

Chocolate brown orbs rested upon Athos' dark look. Twisting his head to one side he caught the marksman's grimace. "Were we set upon by maladrins that I drew my pistol?" Shaking his head, he added, "For some reason I can't remember a thing."

Chuckling, Porthos spoke up. "If'n ya wanna call _Athos_ one...then there weren't any others."

Blanching, face turning white with horror, d'Artagnan stared at his mentor. "Apologies, Athos. I don't know what came over me to do such a thing."

"I do." Sighing, Aramis had more than enough experience of suppressed trauma than his other two brothers. "Your thoughts dwelled upon what happened at the inn." Throwing a funny look at Athos, Aramis smirked. "That _idiot_ riding beside you touched your arm which in turn had you reacting instantly in thinking twas a threat to yourself."

"That explains things then." Running a hand up and down the back of his neck, d'Artagnan felt badly for his actions.

Grumbling, Athos gave the marksman a most unfriendly gesture. "If anyone here is an _idiot_..." Knowing Aramis understood his unspoken sentiment, he said nothing further.

"My only excuse for being so deep in thought is that I still don't know where all this leaves me." Missing the tight looks of worry shared by the inseparables, d'Artagnan became lost within himself once more.

"Care ta explain that, runt?" An uncomfortable feeling came over Porthos. He didn't have to be in the kid's boots to realize where the boy was coming from. Still, he wanted to hear it for himself.

"I may have to forget my dreams of being a cadet in the king's service."

Understanding dawned in Athos. "You mean you may have to return to Lupiac and your farm?" The pup's nod filled him with unhappiness. How the child had come to fill a void in his life so fast was still something of a mystery. But filled it d'Artagnan had.

"I'm hoping for the best but I'm not sure if the captain will be able to help me." Knowing this would come as a surprise to his new comrades, d'Artagnan elaborated. "Something none of you know of is that Captain Treville and papa are long time friends. He promised to come up with a way to help me." After that announcement, his companions grew quiet for a time.

"Let's not borrow trouble quite yet." After Savoy, Aramis had a rough time of it. If it hadn't been for Porthos', Athos' and their captain's efforts, he wouldn't know where he'd now be. Aramis would be damned if he'd let their young one suffer needlessly without any help from them!

"Child," his voice turning gruff, Athos rested his gaze fondly upon the lad, "you saved my life. Even when you suspected me of being the one that murdered your père." Thinking of his time in the Chatelet, waiting to face the firing squad, Athos briefly closed his eyes. "Trust me when I say to you that whatever the future may hold I shall pledge my honor and sword to helping you win your pauldron."

"And the same goes double for me, whelp."

Tipping his chapeau back from his forehead, Aramis winked at the Gascon. "What they both said." Leaning over to tap the lad's cheek, with the tip of a finger, he smiled. "I'll say it anyway for all of us that we'll also help you deal with any problems you encounter with your père."

Choked up, d'Artagnan had a hard time speaking. When he could get the words out, he said, "I don't deserve any of you."

"Oh yeah ya do," chortled Porthos, amusing them all.

By the time everyone's mirth died down, they had finally arrived at their destination.

++++

As they all dismounted, the inseparables and d'Artagnan noted two small figures standing near an old barn. The figures turned out to be relatives of the proprietor who help out caring for patron's horses. Before leaving their mounts to the children's care, all of them dropped a coin into the boy's hands.

Walking in the direction of the inn, facing the place where d'Artagnan thought he'd lost papa forever, he found that his feet wouldn't carry him to the front entrance.

Realizing how his protégé felt, Athos placed a comforting hand upon the pup's shoulder. "Remember that a person who falls and gets back up is much stronger than a person who never fell."

When his mentor's hand fell away, d'Artagnan felt suddenly all alone. Which was nonsense as his friends were all crowded around him.

Adding his voice to that of his brother, Aramis whispered in the young Gascon's ear. "One small crack doesn't mean you are broken... it means that you were put to the test and you didn't fall apart."

Glancing at Porthos, d'Artagnan waited to see what words of wisdom the large soldier would impart.

Figuring he was supposed to say something profound, as his friends had, Porthos gave a careless shrug of one shoulder. "I got nothin'." The whelp's soft snort of amusement brought about an answering grin upon Porthos' face. "Now see there," giving a hearty slap to the kid's back, he laughed, "if'n I can make at least one person smile, or pee their pants a little, then my day wasn't wasted."

" _Mon Dieu!"_ exclaimed Athos. "Let us get inside before I have to listen to anymore words of inspiration from mes freres."

Porthos' protest to that faded away, upon the creaking sound of the inn's door slowly opening.

"You came back sooner than I expected, d'Artagnan." Waving the group inside, Marc-André's gaze landed upon the youth. "Your père's been anxious for your return."

Taking in a deep breath, d'Artagnan was the first one of them to enter the building.

++++

_Alexandre's room_

"Where were you?" Concentrating upon the young man's face, Alexandre tried to remember the boy. But the more he did that, the more his head pained him.

"This is a lot for you to take in, papa, but after your _death,_ " cringing at that last word, d'Artagnan didn't know how else to explain past events, "I went to avenge you, got mixed up in another sordid business resulting in me saving a Musketeer's life, which enabled me into being excepted as a recruit for His Majesty's regiment."

Wide-eyed at this explanation, Alexandre didn't know how to respond. Probably if he'd had all his faculties together, and remembered that this boy was supposed to be his child, he'd have a few choice words to say about it all.

"I've come with men from the Garrison to take you back there to recover." Turning around d'Artagnan opened the door to admit the inseparables inside. After they had entered, he waited for them to introduce themselves to his parent.

"Monsieur, tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Removing his chapeau, Aramis was quite solemn. "However we all wish twas under different circumstances." After that, Athos and Porthos took their turns.

"We have a wagon outside to take you back in." Scrutinizing Alexandre d'Artagnan closely, Athos could only make out certain features that their youngest had inherited from the elder. Perhaps, he supposed, the boy looked more like the mère.

Between the four of them, they managed to get the wounded man settled into the back of the wagon. They had cushioned it with as many blankets they could take from the stored supplies the Garrison held.

"It isn't a long journey, papa." Unhappy, as to how subdued papa was acting, d'Artagnan tried to be cheerful. "Paris is only an hour away."

"Then what?" Looking over at the boy, atop a horse the color of midnight, Alexandre was curious as to the answer he'd receive.

"Then... bien," d'Artagnan's eyes brightened, "there's a friend waiting to see you there. Hopefully he could help you in recovering your memories."

Closing his eyes Alexandre became drowsy, as a sleeping draught had been given to him by one of the Musketeers. "Something for which... I would... be eternally grateful... for." His words trailed off, as Morpheus claimed him.

Once Alexandre d'Artagnan's eyes remained closed, Athos nodded to the rest of them to set off. Having already given the proprietor a bag of coins from a grateful Treville, they bid the man farewell with a wave of their hands.

++++

_Notes:_

_Excusez-moi_ \- excuse me  
_Maladrins_ \- brigands  
_Mère_ \- mother

 _Quote: "Remember that a person who falls and gets back up is much stronger than a person who never fell."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "One small crack does not mean you are broken... it means that you were put to the test and you didn't fall apart."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "If I can make at least one person smile, or pee their pants a little, then my day was not wasted."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, late afternoon - Garrison_

"What's next, d'Artagnan?" They had arrived back home but Porthos wondered what was to be done with the elder d'Artagnan.

" _What's next_ , gents," walking over to the wagon, Treville peered inside, "is that Alexandre will be taken to my home." His old friend simply stared blankly back at him. "I know you don't recognize me, mon ami, but you and I used to be great friends."

Carefully touching his bandaged head Alexandre looked from the boy, who said he was his _son_ , to the older man saying he was his _friend_. Twas too much to take in. "I wish I... could... remember everything."

Turning his head to the side, Treville glanced at Aramis. "Pain draught?"

"Oui. I felt twould make the trip easier for him that way." Leading his horse to the stable, Aramis reached out for Zad's reins too.

Athos decided to do the same with Roger and followed the marksman. He figured Treville wanted to have a few private words with the pup anyway.

"Captain, taking papa into your home... I didn't expect... _that_." Ducking his head shyly, d'Artagnan peeked at the officer through his hair. Lifting it back up again, he frowned. "Don't take this the wrong way, Sir, but how would he be cared for since you'll be at the Garrison most of the time?" Greatly relieved to know that papa had a place to stay, d'Artagnan still worried.

"I've hired a woman that came highly recommended to be with Alexandre when I can't be." The lad's strained features tugged at Treville's heart. Patting the boy's shoulder, he smiled. "All will be well, he'll have the best of care."

"I'm forever in your debt, Captain."

"Becoming a fine Musketeer would be all the payment I could ever want, d'Artagnan." Finished speaking to the young Gascon, Treville turned to Porthos. "You know the way. Madame Barrière is already there." Bending over the wagon again, he reached to gently squeeze his injured friend's arm. "I shall see you later." Once Porthos turned the wagon around, leaving the Garrison grounds, Treville waited for Aramis and Athos to return from the stables. D'Artagnan, beside him, too waited for the other men.

Noting the wagon was gone, Athos glanced at his protégé. "You know none of us had anything to eat yet. Unless the captain has other duties for us to perform, we should go get something at The Wren."

"Oh that sounds like a very good plan." Twas at that moment Aramis heard the lad's stomach growl loudly.

Embarrassed, d'Artagnan looked away from the marksman's amused face.

"All of your duties are covered so you have my permission to seek some nourishment." He waved a hand in the air. "Perish the thought that any of you pass out from hunger." Smirking, Treville took in the looks of relief reflected by the trio's expressions.

"What of Porthos?" d'Artagnan asked. "He'll come back and won't know what happened to us."

"I'll send Gerard over to my house to give Porthos the message. I should have thought of that before he left." With a rueful shake of his head, Treville sighed. "Porthos will need Roulette as well so Gerard will bring the horse with him." There still was one more thing he meant to tell the boy. "D'Artagnan, even though Alexandre will be staying with me," Treville's eyes were kind as they latched onto that of the youth's, "whenever you're free from duty don't hesitate to go see him."

"I was going to ask if I would be intruding popping in and out whenever I can." Dipping his head respectfully, d'Artagnan smiled back at the captain. He was about to question him further over something else that's been nagging at him but d'Artagnan never got the chance. Observing Renault skidding to a halt, nearly bowling over the older officer, he found himself slightly amused.

"Where's the fire, Renault?" Treville barked out.

"You're desperately needed at the palace, Captain." Out of breath, Renault bent over with hands upon knees dragging in air. After nearly a minute had passed, he straightened up and found himself staring at his commander's raised brow. "His Majesty can't find the document he needs to present to Cardinal Richelieu."

" _Mon Dieu!_ _Do I have to do everything around here!_ " Swearing under his breath, Treville strode off in the direction of the stables.

"I gather that happens a lot around here." Looking at his friend's lips twitching, d'Artagnan didn't need to say anything else. Now that he was back here, everything began to feel normal once more.

"More often than you know," Aramis laughed.

"Now since everything has been settled let us be off. I find myself feeling quite famished." Walking side-by-side Athos observed how quiet the lad had suddenly become. "You will drive yourself mad unless you lighten up, child." Placing his gloved hand upon the back of the youngster's neck, he squeezed gently. " _All for one and one for all_ , d'Artagnan."

"I realize you'll all help me through this..." running a hand through his long hair, d'Artagnan looked at his friends helplessly, "but I keep thinking what if papa never gets his memory back. Our retainers that help us run the farm are going to wonder what I'm going to do then."

"Tell you what," slipping an arm across the pup's shoulder, Aramis hugged the youth, "after we sup, you're going to pen a letter to them explaining all that's occurred."

"Exactly," Athos readily agreed. "You shall ask them to carry on until you see how your père fares."

"Before discovering your père lived weren't you going to make arrangements for them to send you a monthly stipend." At the lad's nod, Aramis continued. "Do so anyway as you'll need the coin to purchase what you'll need while you're training."

“It goes without saying that once you have earned your commission then you shall have a regular income.” Athos studied the younger man and could tell that his words still had not eased the boy’s mind. “Tis to be hoped by then your pere’s memories would have been restored.”

“I shall offer up prayers for him at our chapel here.” Knowing twas small comfort to the lad, Aramis held great belief in the power of prayer. After all, wasn’t he proof that miracles did and still do happen? Out of twenty Musketeers Aramis was the lone survivor of Savoy. If that wasn't a miracle then he didn't know what was. Though it took a very long time, and with his brother's help, to make him look at it in that manner.

Trying to lighten the mood Athos, who usually was the last one to do so quipped, “Pup, if your stomach growls any louder I shall have to cover my ears.”

Chuckling, Aramis watched the lad blush to the roots of his dark hair. “We’re almost to The Wren now and soon,” he lightly poked d’Artagnan’s stomach, “you’ll be eating your fill.”

++++

_Treville's residence not far from the city_

Madame Barrière had already been informed about Monsieur d'Artagnan's fragile health. Fussing over the man she made sure he was comfortable in the bed she'd prepared for his arrival. Porthos, as the man had told her to call him, had to have been the biggest Musketeer she'd ever met. He had easily carried the injured Gascon into the house to gently deposit him under the covers.

After the soldier departed, Madame busied herself heating up some soup for her charge. Not knowing yet the man's tastes, and prior to her arrival at the captain's home, she'd already prepared one of her specialties. Madame had yet to meet anyone that didn't enjoy homemade chicken soup.

Entering the room, Madame placed the tray she carried down upon a night stand. Helping Monsieur to sit up in bed she then sat upon the edge of it herself. Holding the bowl steady, Madame spoon-fed him as his hands were too shaky to do so himself. "How's that taste?"

Alexandre had to think hard upon his answer. His mind had gone completely blank when the woman had asked him that question. Pushing the bowl away, he laid back against the mounds of pillows. "I apologize. I'm not up to eating... anything."

"If you don't keep your strength up how do you expect to get better?" Rising, looming over the bed, Madame scowled. "Good soup like this shouldn't go to waste. I'll come back later to see if you're up to eating." Muttering to herself, she left the room.

Staring at the walls, Alexandre wondered what had become of the boy who claimed to be his son. And speaking of that he also became concerned that he'd left a wife behind somewhere probably worrying over what had befallen him. The next time he saw Charles he had to remember to ask the boy that. Then again, with his faulty memories, Alexandre couldn't rely to do so. Head beginning to ache again, slipping back down under the covers, Alexandre closed his eyes.

++++

_The Wren_

When Porthos had joined his brothers, Aramis was involved in a heated discussion with someone that Porthos didn't recognize.

Huffing in annoyance, rolling his eyes, Aramis glared at the other man he'd been conversing with or yelling at... take your pick. " _Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please!_ " Twisting back around in his chair, Aramis stared at three curious faces looking back at him. Polishing off his glass of whiskey, he thumped the empty glass upon the table. Answering the unspoken question that Aramis knew were upon the tips of his friend's tongues, he said, "I've been tutoring that one's wife."

Slapping his forehead, Athos shook his head. "You will never learn."

"Am I missing something?" Leaning closer to Porthos, d'Artagnan whispered his question.

Snorting, Porthos replied, "When Mis says 'e's _tutorin'_ someone tis usually a woman of his acquaintance." Holding up his hand for the boy to wait, he snorted again. "Most of 'is ladybirds are married. Now do ya get it?"

"I'm sorry but I _don't_ " Coming from Lupiac, where nothing much exciting ever happened, d'Artagnan must come across as incredibly naive.

"Ya sure are from Gascony, whelp." There really wasn't a delicate way to put this. "Mis sure as 'ell ain't readin' 'em _psalms_ in the bedroom."

"Oh... _OH!_ " D'Artagnan's soft exclamation of surprise apparently amused Porthos, as he chortled into his tankard of wine. The kid certainly did have a lot to learn about his new comrades.

"Quit shocking the poor boy, Porthos." Shaking a warning finger at his brother, Athos then cut himself a thick hunk of cheese to place upon his plate. Tearing off a piece of warmed bread, that had been served with their meal, he chewed it while keeping his eyes upon d'Artagnan.

Noting that Porthos was on his third tankard of wine, d'Artagnan eyed his friend curiously. "With that amount of drink in you, you'll need help getting home."

Rough laughter erupted from Porthos. Taking a page out of Aramis' book, he grinned wickedly. "Wine is constant proof that God loves us and loves ta see us 'appy." Still grinning like a loon, he downed the contents. "Anyways I can drink anyone under the table and still remain upright." The disbelief written across the whelp's face kept Porthos' silly grin upon his face.

Clapping his hands, balancing his chair upon two legs, Aramis' eyes danced. "I shall have to remember that one for next time." When one of the barmaids sashayed past him, giving Aramis a flirty wink, he nearly fell out of his chair observing her swaying hips. "Ah, I can resist everything except temptation." Much amusement was gained from his remark, as Aramis' friends snorted into their own drinks. However it was the young Gascon's reaction that made his lips quirk upward. Observing the slow blush that began to cover the d'Artagnan's face, he thought to tease the pup. Though one glance at Athos' glower abruptly changed Aramis' mind.

Pleased that he had friends such as these to share the good times, and the bad, d'Artagnan's mind however began to dwell upon his current situation and papa's health. Suddenly the meal before him ceased to be appetizing.

"The food not to your liking?" Tilting his head to one side, Aramis' gaze rested upon their youngest. "Your stomach was growling so loud earlier that I'm certain even Serge heard it clear in the canteen."

While toying with his fork, d'Artagnan's worried expression was not lost upon any of the older men.

"Listen up," his glass of wine halfway to his lips, Athos paused knowing exactly what was going through his protégé's mind again, "I shall only say this once because I do not care to repeat myself." Downing his drink in one go, he swiped at his mouth. "I cannot believe that the God our Aramis believes in with all his heart would be so cruel as to let Alexandre d'Artagnan live and not recover fully."

Pointing upward, Aramis smiled. "From your mouth to God's ears, mon frere."

Holding up his own drink, d'Artagnan quietly murmured, " _Amen_."

++++

_Later in the day, more toward early eve - Treville's residence again_

Sitting in a chair by papa's bed, d'Artagnan fingered the rosaries maman had gifted him with long ago. Aramis wasn't the only one who believed in the power of God. For now papa was resting, albeit restlessly as the older man kept tossing and turning in sleep. Papa murmured words that d'Artagnan strained his ears to understand but couldn't because they were said so softly. Continuing to recite the rosary he was taken aback when suddenly papa's eyes snapped open. When the injured man's eyes focused upon him, the question papa asked left d'Artagnan gaping.

"Who is... _Françoise?_ "

Heart heavy with sadness, d'Artagnan couldn't utter a reply.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please."_ \- from Mark Twain (Nov-ember 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910). He was an American writer, humorist, entrepreneur, publisher, and lecturer. He was lauded as the greatest humorist this country has produced.

 _Quote: "Wine is constant proof that God loves us and loves to see us happy."_ \- from Benjamin Franklin (January 17, 1706 - April 17, 1790). He was an American polymath and one of the Founding Fathers of the United States. Franklin was a leading writer, printer, political philosopher, politician, Freemason, postmaster, scientist, inventor, humorist, civic activist, statesman, and diplomat.

 _Quote: "I can resist everything except temptation."_ \- from Oscar Wilde (16 October 1854 – 30 November 1900). He was an Irish poet and playwright.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't know, I work at my local library and have done so for at least 24 years.  
> Since all the libraries in PA are closed because of the virus scare, and I'm stuck at home because of it for at least 2 weeks, I'm able to post another chapter up sooner than I thought. Enjoy!
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Still same day, early eve - Captain Treville's residence_

Numbness filled d'Artagnan's limbs at the question papa posed. Struck dumb he couldn't find his tongue. Swallowing hard, d'Artagnan wouldn't meet papa's eyes. Staring at the floor, hands clasped tightly together, he tried to find the words. "That... that was... maman's name." A heavy silence followed, one which d'Artagnan found hard to break.

"My... my wife?" Again, the more Alexandre tried to remember his past, the more pained his head felt. "You speak of... her... as if she's... gone."

"Oui." Sad brown orbs met to stare back at one another. "Since I was twelve years of age." This was a topic that d'Artagnan was always uncomfortable speaking of. "Do you remember her now?"

An aged, work-roughened hand, reached out to press against his forehead, as if Alexandre could force his memories to return. "Only... the name I'm... afraid. But I had wondered... since you claim to ... be my son if...if I had a wife waiting... for me somewhere."

Grimacing at the fact papa said that d'Artagnan _claimed_ to be the man's offspring, d'Artagnan's fists clenched. He felt like screaming. Now wouldn't that make a fine impression if Captain Treville came upon him losing control. Wanting to poke and prod at the injured man, until papa remembered him, d'Artagnan opened his mouth only to close it again noting the blank expression and glazed eyes staring back at him. "Papa... papa." Waving his hand in front of his parent's face, not getting a reaction, he realized that he lost him again. Heart heavy once more, d'Artagnan dragged himself to his feet and quietly left the room. Walking past Madame Barrière, he barely acknowledged her before departing the house.

Observing the dejected youth, Mabella sighed. The poor lad's been through much, according to the captain. Bien, things like this are best left in God's hands and in God's time. She would light a candle for Monsieur d'Artagnan this Sunday at mass.

++++

_Next day, mid morn - Garrison courtyard_

D'Artagnan was back at training, giving Athos a run for his money as their blades clashed in the air. His mentor may have years of experience under his belt, but d'Artagnan was younger, swifter upon his feet and hungry to win that pauldron.

Nudging Aramis' ribs, Porthos leaned over. "My money's upon the whelp."

"How much?" Thinking about what he could afford to bet, Aramis winced watching Athos stumble backwards from a close strike of the boy's sword. Perhaps betting that his old friend would win wasn't the wisest of choices, he glanced at Porthos' impatient face. "Why don't you see if Godard and Byron over there would like to place bets upon Athos."

Slapping his brother's back Porthos laughed, understanding exactly what was going through the marksman's mind. "I won't tell 'im we both bet against 'im."

Observing Porthos go over to speak with the other two Musketeers hanging around, Aramis noted that the pair appeared quite smug. When the larger man came back, Aramis raised a curious brow.

"Like takin' candy from a bebé." But as Porthos kept track of the kid's swordwork, he became concerned. Neither of the men were making any headway. It went on like that until Athos declared a draw.

"I've never had the pleasure of having a cadet keep up with me before." Tugging at the scarf around his neck, Athos mopped up the sweat that dripped down his face. As for his protégé, d'Artagnan's hair was plastered to his skull, as if someone had dumped a bucket of water upon the lad's head. Noting the silence surrounding them, Athos glanced first at his friends then back over where Byron and Godard still lingered. None of them appeared happy. Then it hit him. Rolling his eyes, he huffed. "I suppose a bet was made and now none of you are able to collect your prize." Twas more a statement than a question still Athos waited for an answer.

"Does everyone around here bet upon everything?" Eyes wide, d'Artagnan stared at the other soldier's sheepish expressions. Not receiving an answer, he noted Aramis' and Porthos' guilty faces. Studying his two friends, d'Artagnan wanted to find out who they placed bets upon. "So who would have won?" Neither man answered him, leaving him puzzled at the lack of response. Byron and Goddard, however, offered up what d'Artagnan wanted to know.

"Athos was our man." Byron's grin spread wide as did Goddards, both dipping their head in respect to the swordsman.

Upon hearing this, folding his arms, Athos' narrowed gaze rested upon his closest brothers. "Am I to believe that the both of you bet against me." Aramis merely twirled his mustache around a finger, while Porthos appeared unrepentant.

"Kid's good." Winking at the whelp, Porthos chuckled.

"The lad's faster than you, mon ami." Placing his arm around their youngest, Aramis led the Gascon away from the practice area.

When Goddard and Byron walked past Athos, the latter stopped to speak with him.

"Beginner's luck to the Gascon." Then Byron kept up walking, quickening his pace to catch up to Goddard.

Athos told himself he was simply having an off day. Not giving it much more thought, he went to clean up. Though he felt he should retaliate in some manner against his two brothers. Athos would have to give it more consideration.

++++

_Later - Captain Treville's residence_

Mabella was busy preparing lunch, when she heard unsteady footsteps enter the kitchen. A quick glance over her shoulder had her dropping the spoon in her hand into the pot of simmering soup. " _Monsieur d'Artagnan!_ " Quickly wiping her hands upon her apron, Mabella took the man by the arm and sat him down. "What do you think you're doing getting out of that bed?" She hadn't had to scold anyone in such a long time that Mabella nearly forgot what it felt like.

"I have moments of... lucidity from time to... time." Taking a shuddering breath, Alexandre took in his surroundings. Now that he was out of that room, he began to breathe easier. "The walls began to feel... as if... they were closing in...upon me." Then savoring the aroma in the kitchen, Alexandre looked over at the stove. "Those smells remind me... of something."

"Probably that you're starving since you've not eaten much." Going back to the stove, Mabella began adding more ingredients to the soup.

Noting the bottle of wine sitting upon the table, Alexandre gaze dwelled upon the woman's back. "I do not believe... in my... state that wine would... be good for me."

Without turning around, Mabella replied, "How do you know it isn't to steady my nerves?"

"Is it?"

Laughing, until her entire body shook, Mabella went to get some bowls from the kitchen cabinet. "I cook with wine," she smirked. "Sometimes I even _add_ it to the food."

"Guess... guess I asked for that." Amused, Alexandre sat back in his chair trying to relax his stiff muscles. He really did need to try and get up and about, without being nagged to stay in bed despite his head injury.

Placing a steaming bowl in front of Monsieur, Mabella then took her own seat across from him. Hazel eyes twinkling, she pointed at his bowl. "Eat up before it cools." Shifting in her chair, she had more to say. "Actually," pointing this time to the wine bottle near the stove, "I'm like old wine. They don't bring me out very often but I'm well preserved." Listening to her charge snort with amusement, Mabella enjoyed her own cooking.

++++

_Garrison - courtyard_

Having watched the sparring match between young d'Artagnan and his lieutenant, Treville had to admit that he hadn't been quite so entertained in months. The lad showed great promise. Great promise indeed. Alexandre had done a fine job with his son. Considering that his old friend had a farm to work, with a growing boy to raise all alone, the man had done well by d'Artagnan.

Farming was hard graft to begin with. Losing Françoise had to have been a harsh blow on top of all that. Somehow Alexandre held it together through all of life's challenges. Treville could only pray that this latest challenge would be met in the same fashion.

++++

_Captain Treville's residence again_

Having made himself presentable once more, d'Artagnan wasn't expected for duty yet so made his way over to visit papa. Entering the house he heard voices coming from the kitchen area. To his astonishment d'Artagnan discovered papa sitting at the table eating with Madame Barrière. "Should he be out of bed?"

Twisting his head around, Alexandre saw a boy standing there. Squinting his eyes, he studied the youth. "Have... have we met... before?"

Not again, d'Artagnan silently moaned. He felt that for every shaky step forward papa took there were several shaky steps taken back to the beginning. Before d'Artagnan could begin explaining all over again, Madame cleared her throat.

"Have you eaten yet?" Mabella pushed her chair back. Standing up she walked back over to the stove. Filling up another bowl, she pointed to an empty chair.

"If you don't mind having another mouth to feed," d'Artagnan was all politeness, trying not to act upset, "I wouldn't refuse a hot meal."

"Set yourself down there. Nothing but skin and bones you are." Placing the bowl of soup in front of the lad, Mabella added a plate of cheese and bread to go along with it. "A good stiff would could blow you away." Placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder, she smiled. "Eat up. I won't be happy until that bowl's empty and you've made a dent in that plate."

Knowing that his time is limited, until he had to be back at the Garrison, d'Artagnan ate quickly. He enjoyed the soup greatly. It reminded him of when he'd been a child sitting in maman's kitchen as she cooked one of her specialties for them. "Tis delicious."

"Only way I know how to cook," she hummed pleasantly.

Finished, d'Artagnan turned to stare at the silent man beside him. There was nothing more he wanted than for papa to remember him.. so he tackled it again. "I'm your son... _Charles_."

"I have a son?" Gazing at the women to his left hoping she had some answers, Alexandre noted her confusion.

"Don't look at me... I'm only the hired help around here." With a cluck of her tongue, Mabella went to wash the dishes.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, d'Artagnan realized he didn't have the time he needed to re-hash everything out. He would be due back shortly and couldn't dawdle. "I'm needed back at the Garrison but I shall return later." Leaving his bewildered parent behind, d'Artagnan nearly slammed the door behind him.

++++

_Notes:_

_Quote: "I cook with wine. Sometimes I even add it to the food."_ \- from W.C. Fields (January 29, 1880 – December 25, 1946). He was an American comedian, actor, juggler, and writer. Fields' comic persona was a misanthropic and hard-drinking egotist, who remained a sympathetic character despite his supposed contempt for children and dogs.

 _Quote: "I'm like old wine. They don't bring me out very often but I'm well preserved."_ \- from Rose Kennedy (July 22, 1890 – January 22, 1995). She was an American philanthropist, socialite, and the matriarch of the Kennedy family.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, mid-afternoon - Garrison_

" _'Ey, Aramis!_ " shouted Porthos from outside the barracks, waving the marksman over. When his friend joined him, he began to complain. "Did ya pull late palace duty?"

"I just was informed that I did." Scratching at his beard, Aramis frowned. "I had plans that I'll shall have to change now."

Snorting, Porthos scoffed, "Knowin' ya, it probably involves one of those pretty Mademoiselles over at the new taverne that just opened up."

Humming pleasantly, Aramis dipped his head in agreement. "You know me so well, mon frere." Noting Porthos was just as upset, he signaled with a wave of his hand for the larger man to continue.

"Bien, I have the same problem." Running a hand down the back of his neck, Porthos blew out a frustrated breath. " _Merde!_ That means I 'ave ta cancel a card game I arranged for in The Wren's back room."

"I gather twould have lined your pockets handsomely... mmmmm?" Porthos _games_ , more often than not, proved quite profitable in the past. Sometimes Aramis' friend shared some of his wealth with him and Athos.

"Yeah," rough laughter escaped Porthos, "big time." His amusement shortly turned into grumbles of displeasure. Staring past Aramis' shoulder, he caught sight of Athos making his way across the courtyard. The older Musketeer appeared mighty pleased with himself whenever Athos looked their way.

Following Porthos' line of vision, Aramis too noted Athos' expression.

"I didn't think 'e'd be so petty."

"I doubt tis that," remarked Aramis. "We've disappointed him." Slapping his thigh hard, he shared regretful look with Porthos. "Never have either of us ever bet against him before."

"I still stand by what I said, Mis." Folding his arms, Porthos was steamed.

"Believe what you want, mon ami, but it doesn't change the fact that we're both in the same boat." Tilting his chapeau to one side, Aramis began whistling. "I may as well inform Nicolette that our plans have changed."

"I gotta do the same and make other plans. There's goin' ta be a lot of unhappy _pigeons_." Listening to Aramis' choked off laughter, in how Porthos referred to his potential victims, he winked at his brother.

Leaning against the large shoulder of his friend, Aramis' rueful gaze rested upon the other man. "We've both learned a valuable lesson from this, however."

"Ta not 'urt our comrade like that again." With a grimace and nod of his head, Porthos went his way while Aramis went the other.

++++

_Captain Treville's residence_

Stepping inside his home, Jean-Armand was startled when he came upon Alexandre roaming the main living area. "It pleases me greatly to see you out of that bed." Going over to his old friend, he looked him in the eye. Alexandre appeared alert and wasn't wearing that lost look he'd been sporting.

Sighing heavily, Alexandre slowly shook his head. "Another... one that I... do... not... know." A pounding began inside his head, making it ache all the more.

"I'm Captain Jean-Armand de Treville." His kind eyes could tell that none of this was registering with Alexandre. "You and I grew up together back in Lupiac but my famille's surname was de Troisville. I simply changed it when I came to Paris." Removing his chapeau and doublet Jean-Armand threw both of them upon the sofa. "This place is my home which I'm glad to share with you until you've recovered."

"Do you know why I... was coming... to... Paris?"

"D'Artagnan told me that you were representing the townspeople from your district and were going to seek an audience with the king."

"Over what?" Taken aback, Alexandre stared hard at the stranger in shock.

"Everyone's been suffering over the increase of taxes. Lupiac's been hit especially hard." Wincing at the disbelief crossing Alexandre's face, Jean-Armand prayed he hadn't made things worse.

Rubbing his chin in thought, Alexandre tried to search his brain for those elusive memories. "Rather... rather naive of me... or twas simply a... a case of stupidity."

"You wouldn't be saying any of that if your memories were all intact." Sitting down, Jean-Armand motioned for Alexandre to do the same. "You're one of the finest men I've ever known and I consider you one of my best friends."

Alexandre was a man who desperately needed answers. He realized his helpless expression wasn't lost upon the captain. Splaying hands out wide, he murmured, " _Friends_?"

"Oui." Nodding his head, Jean-Armand pressed on. "Friends show their love in times of trouble not in times of happiness." Thinking back to their boyhood days, he began to laugh. "The mischief you and I got mixed up in nearly drove our familles crazy."

Trying his hardest once more for even the tiniest of memories, Alexandre suddenly recalled something. "Did I place a burr... under the saddle of... someone once?"

"Ah!" Amusement filled Jean-Armand, as he recollected the incident. "Twas that new retainer your père had hired. He wasn't a very pleasant fellow." Alexandre appeared to have perked up at his words. "The gent didn't like children nor did he treat horses with the respect they deserved." Of all the things to have remembered this particular one came as a complete surprise to Jean-Armand.

"I was... punished... for it. Wasn't... I?"

"As was I, because I knew what you had planned and didn't put a stop to it." Chuckling quietly, Jean-Armand thought back to that moment. "Could be how I became so good at mucking out stables." Amazed brown eyes connected with his own blue ones. With a light shrug of a shoulder, his lips pursed. "We all have to start somewhere upon entertaining the idea of a soldier's life as your son's discovering now."

"D'Artagnan." Softly speaking the boy's name, Alexandre wished he could conjure up a memory involving the lad. Would have been even better if he could have remembered his wife too. "The boy keeps telling... me that he's my child." Smacking his forehead, he grimaced. "Yet... yet I can't feel a... connection... to him."

"I believe the more aware of your surroundings you become your repressed memories shall awaken." Standing back up Jean-Armand began to walk back and forth. "That young man of yours is quite impressive with a sword." Raising a brow, he stared at his friend. "Something d'Artagnan learned from you, Alexandre."

Pointing to himself in disbelief, Alexandre was stunned. " _Me_?"

"Many a day was spent with you and I crossing swords in practice. I always had a deuce of a time keeping up with you and your tricks." Jean-Armand smiled, remembering all those good times.

"Earlier today d'Artagnan practiced with my lieutenant and nearly ran Athos over." Winking at the wounded man, Jean-Armand added, "And Athos is noted to be the finest swordsman in all of France."

"Wish I could feel...pride... in the boy's accomplishment." Passing a shaky hand over his brow, Alexandre felt weary. "My brain's taxed with all this talk of the past."

"Do you wish to retire to your room?" Waiting to see what Alexandre wanted, Jean-Armand was ready to help steady him back upon his feet.

"I'd like to remain here if I may. Just want to close and rest my eyes for a bit."

Helping Alexandre to stretch out upon the sofa, Jean-Armand then covered him with a heavy blanket that suddenly appeared out of the blue. Bless Madame Barrière, for he knew who put it there.

++++

_Garrison - Captain Treville's office_

As d'Artagnan entered the office, he was surprised to find Athos staring at a huge map secured onto one of the walls. "Oh, I thought I was summoned by the captain."

Without turning around, Athos signal for his protégé to join him. "Treville has gone to check how your père fares." Returning his attention back to study the map once more, his brows drew together in concentration. "I sent for you because I'm assigning you to go along with Renault, Bryon and Godard."

Facing the child, Athos noted confusion covering that young face. "We have been receiving reports lately of a band of voleurs that have been robbing some of our more prominent citizens." Pointing to an area upon the map, marked with a tack, he glanced at the pup to make sure d'Artagnan was paying attention.

"Artois is only a few days ride from the city." Tucking hands underneath his armpits, d'Artagnan studied the map for a few moments. Then placing a finger right upon the spot where Athos pointed he asked, "Is that where the robberies have taken place?"

"Oui." Placing a hand upon the boy's back, Athos still noted the lad's confusion. "You are probably curious as to why I am not leading this mission along with Porthos, Aramis and yourself." His blue-eyed gaze was highly amused as the youth's head bobbed up and down.

"From what we have gathered," drawled Athos, "all the robberies have been bungled in some fashion or other."

"In other words... there's nothing to fear from these particular voleurs." D'Artagnan's eyes twinkled showing much amusement, especially noting Athos' lips twitching slightly.

"Not from what has been reported so far." Tapping the area upon the map again, Athos shook his head. "This band of men have not even been able to steal anything as yet." Walking over to Treville's desk he perched upon its edge. Picking up a mug of coffee previously started, Athos took a long sip of the dark liquid. "I am sending you out with the others as part of a training assignment. They are seasoned soldiers so if perhaps something untoward should occur you would not be in terrible danger of losing your life." Sarcasm dripped from his voice, along with a raised eyebrow.

Upon his mentor's last words, d'Artagnan lost it completely. Clutching his sides, he couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling forth. "Merci for the pep talk, Athos. I shall go seek my new teammates." But before d'Artagnan did so, he eyed longingly the carafe of hot coffee sitting upon the desk. Knowing the older man's love of the brew, he asked, "Is there any left?"

Placing the empty mug back down, Athos crossed his arms. "Coffee, as you very well know, keeps me busy until tis time to be _drunk_. So to answer your question... there is only enough left for myself." Locking eyes with the pup, he grinned. "You are out of luck, child."

Ask a stupid question, d'Artagnan muttered silently. Giving his mentor a two fingered salute, he quickly departed.

With a smirk gracing Athos' lips, observing the youngster head out, his fingers latched onto the carafe again.

++++

_Notes:_

_Famille_ \- family  
_Voleurs_ \- thieves

_Quote: "Friends show their love in times of trouble not in times of happiness."_ \- from Euripides (c. 480 – c. 406 BC). He was a tragedian of classical Athens. Along with Aeschylus and Sophocles, he was one of the three ancient Greek tragedians for whom a significant number of plays have survived.

_Quote: "Coffee keeps me busy until it's time to be drunk."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know this prompt called for it to be filled with angst but most of you know I like to put humor in my stories. Well this chapter there's a bit more of it.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day - late afternoon_

Having gotten together with the trio of Musketeers, d'Artagnan had been paired with, he and the others arranged a suitable time to meet up after muster the next day. He had only ever spent a minimal amount of time around them and so d'Artagnan didn't know how any of the older men reacted in times of trouble. Bien, Athos had mentioned that there wasn't much to worry over with this particular group of voleurs. This may turn out to be a piece of cake.

++++

_A little while later - Captain Treville's residence_

Madame Barrière answered after only the second knock. D'Artagnan greeted her as she let him inside. Going into the main living area he came to an abrupt stop noting papa asleep upon the sofa. In the silence of the room, d'Artagnan heard the soft footsteps behind him. Turning slightly, he dipped his head at the welcoming presence of his captain.

"You'll be happy to know that some of his memories have returned while I talked to him about our boyhood shenanigans." Treville had enjoyed reminiscing with his old friend. He vowed to do it more often to bring Alexandre back to them.

"That's a good sign." Swallowing hard, d'Artagnan asked a question that was of great import. "What of myself? Has he said anything at all?" When the captain's brows drew together and the officer frowned, d'Artagnan guessed twas not good news.

"Alas, so far Alexandre's memories of you are non-existent." Holding up a finger, Treville smiled. "I believe that could change the more I badger at him about his old life." Gently resting a hand upon the boy's shoulder, he felt for the younger man. "Try not to worry overmuch."

"That's hard to do when it's only been the two of us for a very long time." Forcing tears away, d'Artagnan had to remind himself that he had a goal to work toward. Two actually. Papa's memories and his own endeavors to earn that pauldron. "Since papa's resting I don't want to disturb him. But would you do me a favor and tell him I was here, Sir."

"Of course." Guiding the lad toward the kitchen Treville asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Merci but I'm to meet up with Porthos and Aramis shortly for dinner." Since Athos was filling in for Captain Treville, d'Artagnan had promised his mentor that he'd bring a meal over for him later.

"Before you go was there anything else of interest I may have missed since I came home?" Humming quietly, Treville waited for the lad's response.

"You haven't been gone long enough for anything to have gone awry." Smirking, d'Artagnan then coughed into his hand smothering a laugh at the look upon the older man's face.

" _Hmmpf!_ " Knowing twas a ridiculous question to have asked, Treville let it slide.

"I will tell you that Athos has given me an assignment I'll be sharing with three soldiers I haven't worked with before. Twould be a good experience for me to mix with others outside my own unit." As the captain hadn't said anything yet d'Artagnan added, "We'll be setting out sometime after muster."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Treville sighed. "You're going after those _idiots_ that have been trying without success to rob some of la crème de la crème of society."

"Yeah, that would be them," agreed d'Artagnan, without much enthusiasm. Only because he wanted a mission he could sink his teeth into. He needed something like that to keep his mind off of papa.

"Whom are the men you're to accompany?"

"Byron, Renault and Godard."

"Very competent soldiers. They don't get into nearly as much mischief as your inseparables." Amused how d'Artagnan's expression changed to one of surprise, Treville chuckled.

"Do most of the Musketeers here find trouble that easily?" Now d'Artagnan was wondering how safe he would be with those three.

"My men have to get their fun where and when they can," drawled Treville, blue eyes showing his amusement once more. "As long as their _fun_ doesn't interfere with His Majesty's business."

"And of course the Cardinal's Red Guards as well." D'Artagnan had learned that the two factions hated one another.

"Indeed." Patting the boy's back, Treville walked him to the door. "Bonne chance, lad."

++++

_Next day - en route to Artois_

They had come to a fork in the road and were discussing whether or not to split up. D'Artagnan would go with any decision the other men felt best, as he was only a recruit. Normally, he would have made a suggestion here or there but these soldiers weren't his inseparables.

Byron was the eldest and his comrades usually deferred to him on any major decisions. Having the young Gascon with them made him slightly uneasy. If anything were to go wrong, he wouldn't want to face any of the inseparables if the boy got injured in any way. Then again Byron had heard nothing but good things about the lad's swordwork. Perhaps he's worrying for naught.

His eyes kept shifting from left to right as he studied the fork, determining what to do. Byron shouldn't be dawdling like this over something so trivial as this. Silently chiding himself, he twisted in the saddle to look at everyone. "Between two evils I always picked the one I never tried before." Pointing toward the left road, his gaze encountered d'Artagnan's. "You and I will go that way... Renault and Godard the other." As there weren't any protests from his friends, he nodded his head at them. "Good hunting, mes freres."

Byron could feel the lad's eyes resting upon him. The boy probably didn't know what to make of him. Lips quirking upward, he glanced sideways at d'Artagnan. "Don't try so hard to figure me out." Laughing, he shook a finger in the air. "I'm that friend you have to explain to people before you introduce me and then apologize about it afterwards."

"Odd that," chortled d'Artagnan. "Sounds an awful lot like you were describing either Porthos or Aramis."

"There are many of us Musketeers that fit that description." Smiling into dark orbs twinkling as his own were, Byron thought that the youngster would do. "Now let's concentrate and see if there are any fresh tracks to follow."

"I'm good at tracking. You learn to do that working a farm." Jumping off Zad's back d'Artagnan kept his eyes peeled upon the dirt. Fifteen minutes or so went by when he came upon signs that horses had passed here recently. Holding up his hand for Byron to stop, he didn't say a word just signaled to the older man by pointing toward the ground.

Byron got off his own horse to join the lad. They both kept following the trail, until they began to hear voices near their position. Quietly they made their way through the trees. When the voices grew louder, they paused to peer through the brush.

++++

"I don't know what we're doing wrong," complained Eaton. "But ever since we started this we've come up empty." He was at the point where considering life as a voleur wasn't really for him. "At least at the bakery I made some money. Which is more than I can say has happened with any of you."

Forest was the youngest and was beginning to feel likewise. "We have to be the most unfortunate of voleurs."

Grimacing, thinking upon the last carriage they tried to rob, Aldridge had to look away from Macon who was their leader.

"If Giffre hadn't felt badly when that woman cried and cried over having to hand over her jeweled necklace to him, we'd be sitting pretty." Arms crossed, snorting, Macon continued ranting. "By the time he gave it back to her a Musketeer patrol was nearly upon us and we had to get out of there or risk arrest or worse." Macon was still upset, focusing his attention upon Forest next. "And you there are too tenderhearted for this life." Shaking his head, he glared at the boy. "Don't think I didn't catch you giving the ring back to that young girl either." 

++++

Listening to them, d'Artagnan began to actually feel sorry for some of them. The not so gentle nudge to his side reminded him he wasn't alone to dwell upon this. Though it appeared that Byron was amused at what they both overheard. Still, d'Artagnan knew they had a job to do here. "We're a bit outnumbered don't you think? Shouldn't we go back for the others?"

"I'd bet my next pay that most of them will either scatter or give up easily to us." Not wanting to admit that he almost didn't have the heart to arrest them, Byron kept that to himself. "I doubt we'll need Godard and Renault."

_Famous last words..._

++++

With a silent nod to the young Gascon, Byron stepped out into the open with d'Artagnan by his side. It went without saying that they had startled the band of voleurs. The group of men simply stared back at them dumbfounded. With a smirk gracing his features, Byron slowly drawled, "Would you care to surrender peacefully or do this the hard way?"

" _Really_ ," hissed d'Artagnan. " _That's what you're going with._ " Huffing under his breath, d'Artagnan's thoughts turned to the inseparables. This was eerily similar to a past mission he'd only heard about that hadn't gone according to plan. Why did he have a feeling this one was going to go the same way?

Byron didn't bother explaining himself to the boy. Gazing at the voleurs in front of him, he quickly assessed that none of them were armed. This was going to be way to easy. Always having enjoyed it whenever the crooks they were chasing fought back, this assignment wouldn't be the case. Guess he'd have to chalk this one up to a very boring mission. D'Artagnan certainly wasn't going to walk away having learned anything from it either.

"Er... Macon." Glancing at their leader, Giffre worried what was going to happen next. Macon wasn't known as an even tempered man.

Sizing up the situation they now found themselves in, Macon growled low in his throat. Only one Musketeer and a boy. He liked those odds. Quick as lightning he reached down for a handful of dirt and threw it at the Musketeer's face. While that caused them the distraction they needed, he yelled for the others to arm themselves. Unfortunately Macon had underestimated the youth with the soldier. For suddenly he found himself staring into the lad's face with a sword at his throat. Twas enough time for the Musketeer to collect himself and start brandishing his own blade at Macon's men. Feeling the jab of the boy's sword he gently pushed it away from his throat. "Really now, kid, you feel like spilling my blood?"

"Only if you put up a fight." Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan had to wonder at these guys. Byron seemed to be holding his own, as the other three older voleurs didn't appear to know how to handle a sword or a poignard by the look of it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the youngest one try for one of the horses. So if d'Artagnan wanted to stop him he first had to deal with this one. With a quick, hard movement of his foot, he kicked the legs out from under the older man he faced. When the man went down the voleur managed to hit his head pretty hard and went out like a light. All the better for d'Artagnan as that freed him up to go after the youngest one. Reaching the other boy, he managed to pull him off the saddle. It wasn't hard to do as the voleur only had one foot in the stirrup to begin with. As his victim fell to the ground, d'Artagnan noted how very young he truly was. "How old are you?"

Wondering at the strange question, considering the circumstances, Forest found himself answering it anyway. "Thirt... thirteen."

Having already garnered that the boy's heart wasn't really into this life d'Artagnan turned his back on him, giving the lad a chance to get away. So instead he went to help out his comrade. Looked like Byron ended up needing an extra hand after all. Finding the soldier lying upon the ground, rather dazed with blood dripping from a gash upon his forehead, d'Artagnan didn't have time to check him out. Twirling around, one hand holding his sword and the other his main gauche, he grinned at the three other men he faced. "Which one of you would like to have a taste of this blade first?"

"Does the kid realize there's three of us?" Exchanging odd looks with Eaton and Aldridge, Giffre wondered if this boy had all of his marbles. His friends simply shrugged at the question probably all thinking the same. Eaton was wielding a large branch, while Aldridge gripped a heavy rock as their weapons. Neither of them had a chance to go for their pistols yet. Giffre himself had a tangle of rope. Though he couldn't figure out what he was going to do with it.

Noting the so-called weapons the voleurs held, d'Artagnan didn't know whether to worry or not. Instead he tried to make them see reason. "Look, by the sounds of it none of you really want to be doing this." Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan scowled. "That one over there." Pointing to the man he'd just knocked to the ground, "I'm guessing he's your leader since he was balling you all out a few minutes ago."

"Now... now see here..." Starting to stutter in indignation, Aldridge snapped his mouth shut upon noting Forest creeping up behind this one.

"So far none of you have been able to steal anything from your victims." Exasperated with the entire situation, d'Artagnan kept on. "Come with us and I'm sure our captain will be lenient with you."

"This one's going to talk us to death," muttered Giffre, knowing Eaton heard his words by nodding in agreement.

So involved was d'Artagnan in trying to make these men listen to him he was completely taken by surprise when something heavy hit the back of his head, knocking him to the ground unconscious.

"I'm not sure I should have done that." Forest's sorrow-filled eyes rested upon the man who had given him a chance to escape. Overcome with dread, he knelt down to make sure he hadn't killed him. Feeling a steady pulse underneath his fingers, Forest's eyes closed in relief. At least he hadn't become a murderer. He'd probably bungle that too, even if that were the case which it wasn't. Getting back to his feet he walked over to where the others were unsuccessfully trying to wake Macon up. Realizing his help wasn't needed, Forest made for their horses. Getting them ready for departure made better sense than standing around doing nothing. As he passed by the Musketeer and his younger comrade, Forest knew neither of those men were going anywhere anytime soon.

++++

_Notes:_

_Voleurs_ \- thieves  
_La crème de la crème_ \- the very best of  
_Bonne chance_ \- good luck  
_Poignard_ \- dagger

 _Quote: "Between two evils I always picked the one I never tried before."_ \- from Mae West (August 17, 1893 – November 22, 1980). She was an American actress, singer, playwright, screenwriter, comedian and sex symbol whose entertainment career spanned seven decades.

 _Quote: "I'm that friend you have to explain to people before you introduce me and then apologize about it afterwards."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day... same place - late morn_

An hour or so later found both Byron and d'Artagnan awake though with pounding headaches and some dizzyness.

"Still think we didn't need back-up from Renault and Godard?" huffed d'Artagnan gingerly touching the lump at the back of his head.

At the boy's words, Byron realized what he'd be facing back in Captain Treville's office. It wouldn't be his finest hour. Upon hearing whispered voices speaking, he immediately went for his sword. However, he soon found his legs very uncooperative. As soon as he gained his feet, Byron was back upon the ground dazed.

" _Whoa, mon frere!_ " Running over to his friend, Godard helped the older man up. In the meanwhile, Renault went to check d'Artagnan out.

Waving Renault's help away d'Artagnan stood up, swaying slightly. "When did you two get here?"

"Just a few minutes ago," responded Godard. "You gave us a fright seeing you both unconscious."

"Athos isn't going to be happy with me I guess." Stretching out the kinks in his body, d'Artagnan sighed.

"I believe Athos' anger would turn upon me, lad." Grimacing, just thinking over it, Byron wasn't looking forward to that confrontation. Facing the captain wasn't going to be pretty either. Explaining to his friends what had happened, perhaps he shouldn't have told them how many voleurs were involved as they glared at him.

" _You're a deuce stubborn idiot... you know that?_ " Godard just knew his brother would pull something like this and with d'Artagnan in tow.

"And of course you thought you could handle them with only the two of you," sourly added Renault. He didn't blame the young Gascon because the lad would have had to follow Byron's lead.

" _Come!_ " barked Godard. "The sooner we get back to the Garrison the sooner we get the reaming from Captain Treville out of the way."

His friends had retrieved his and d'Artagnan's horses and so Byron gingerly got onto his mount's back. With the others following him, they headed back to the city. Something he wasn't looking forward to.

++++

_Nearly two days later - Garrison, Captain Treville's office_

Forcefully slamming his hand down upon his desk Treville leaned over it glaring at Byron. Having heard the entirety of what had happened, he was quite vocal in his displeasure.

"D'Artagnan, lad, get checked out at the infirmary." Noting the boy's stubborn look, Treville crossed his arms. "Twas not a request."

"Oui, Sir." Quietly departing, d'Artagnan slipped past the door and down the steps.

"Renault... Godard, you're both dismissed." Waiting for the soldiers to leave, Treville then focused his ire upon Byron. _"You could have gotten yourself and d'Artagnan killed! What were you thinking?"_ Slashing his hand through the air, he snorted. "In fact you _weren't_ or you wouldn't have found yourself overpowered."

Knowing he didn't have a leg to stand upon, Byron remained silent.

" _Don't think you're getting out of punishment either!_ " snapped Treville. "Get out of here while I think of something suitable. As soon as I do you'll be the first to know."

Before Byron's hand reached for the doorknob, the captain's next words made him wince.

"Word's gotten back to the inseparables... be prepared!"

With head hanging down, Byron walked out of the room.

++++

_Infirmary_

Knocking Aramis' hands away for about the fourth time, d'Artagnan scowled up and the older man. Currently he was sitting upon one of the empty beds, feeling like he really shouldn't be here. "Honestly tis only a bump. Nothing to fuss about."

"I'll be the judge of that." Humming to himself, Aramis carefully touched the back of the boy's head. Parting some of the lad's hair away, he noted the reddish, split skin around the swollen flesh. There was still some blood there too. "Looks painful," he murmured.

Batting his friend's hands away again, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes. " _It wasn't until you started poking and prodding at it!_ "

" _What the 'ell exactly 'appened, kid?_ " Porthos wanted to throw something but didn't know who to aim anything at.

"That is what I want to know as well, d'Artagnan," slowly drawled an irritated Athos.

So d'Artagnan explained everything as quickly as he could, to get it out of the way. "I told Byron we were outnumbered but having listened to the gang talking about their own mishaps he figured taking them down would be easy." Aramis' hand upon d'Artagnan's shoulder was comforting as his brother gave it a gentle squeeze.

Bending down to look the pup in the eyes Aramis, for once, appeared serious. "Never forget three types of people in your life." Holding up a hand, he began ticking them off. First finger went up. "The ones who _help_ you in difficult times."

"That would be us," put in Porthos with a widespread grin, while ignoring Aramis' pained expression upon being interrupted.

Second digit went up, as Aramis continued. "Those who _left_ you in difficult times." His sharp glare at Porthos was meant for the larger man to not speak up again. Holding up his third finger, he frowned. "And those who _put_ you in difficult times."

" _And that would be Byron!_ " snapped Athos with anger simmering just below the surface. He would be having words with the other soldier shortly.

Understanding that look in his mentor's gaze, d'Artagnan firmly gave the older man his own order. "Athos, don't jump down Byron's throat. Captain Treville I'm sure gave him a dressing down he won't soon forget." Observing his friend's lips tightened together, d'Artagnan held up his hand. "I'm quite sure Byron's going to face some sort of punishment for the way he handled our assignment."

Athos' grim features spoke volumes to every one of them. "I cannot make a promise I may not keep." He ignored his protégé's eyeroll.

"I feel a lot better now and after I groom our horses I'm going to visit with papa."

None of the inseparables thought to argue with the lad over that as long as their youngest felt he was up to it that's all that counted. Except Aramis' eyes narrowed upon the pup. "The minute you feel dizzy again I want you to come straight back here."

"Worrywart," muttered d'Artagnan, causing Porthos to start laughing which earned his larger brother Athos' best glower. "Remind me again how we came to be all friends?" Silence met his question. With a huff, and another roll of eyes, d'Artagnan got up from the bed. Grabbing his doublet and weapons belt he left the infirmary with the inseparables dogging his steps.

++++

_Around three in the afternoon - Captain Treville's residence_

Madame Barrière welcomed the young man inside. "Your père had a nice rest and is feeling much better today. I think Captain Treville's visits do him good."

"I hope so." Removing his doublet and weapons d'Artagnan placed them upon a chair. Turning back to look at her, he asked, "Is he abed?"

"Non," she shook her head. "He's in the main room." Smiling at the boy, Mabella went back about her duties.

++++

Finding papa sitting up reading a book greatly pleased d'Artagnan. Sitting opposite him he leaned forward, elbows upon knees, chin in his hands, studying the older man. He did that for a few minutes, with papa not paying any attention to him. Then d'Artagnan straightened up, hands clasped between his legs. Still gazing upon that beloved face, he spoke quietly. "Are you feeling more like yourself today?"

Peering over the pages he was reading, Alexandre's dark eyes crinkled up in the corners as he smiled. "First day without those blasted headaches." Marking his spot, he placed the book aside. "Jean-Armands been talking to me of our friendship and the past."

"And," eagerly prodded d'Artagnan, silently praying papa's full memories would be restored.

"I finally remembered Françoise and our life together." Alexandre's happy expression soon turned to one of great sorrow. "She's been gone a long while now."

"After maman passed twas only the two of us." Shrugging a shoulder, d'Artagnan smiled. "I don't think we've done too badly together." Chuckling when papa's brows rose at his words, he stood up to kneel before him. "What of me?"

Reaching out to cup the lad's face in both hands, Alexandre leaned forward to place a gentle kiss upon Charle's forehead. "You've been my pride and joy."

Tears dripped down d'Artagnan's face. "When did it come back to you?"

Releasing his son, Alexandre sat back. "Early this morn before I arose. I believe twas Jean-Armand and I talking until the wee hours that did it." Wiping the lad's tears away with a thumb, his eyes twinkled. "I can't wait to tell him. I'm sure Jean-Armand would be pleased that he doesn't have to keep at me to remember." Holding up his hand, to prevent the lad from speaking up, Alexandre stared into his son's wet eyes. "There are still a few things that are a bit sketchy yet but I'm sure they'll soon come to me."

Papa then began giving him a strange look which worried d'Artagnan. Before he could say anything, papa's face suddenly contorted with anger which caused a shiver to go up and down d'Artagnan's spine.

"I didn't raise you to become a soldier. You're to farm the land that would be yours one day." Observing the degree of emotions crossing his son's face, Alexandre tried to calm down. "Once I'm feeling up to traveling we shall return to Lupiac."

Those words pierced d'Artagnan's heart to the core. To lose all the friendships he's established and his chance to join the king's regiment... he couldn't fathom their loss. Surely d'Artagnan could make papa see reason. "You have to understand... I thought you were dead. Then I set out to avenge you. Only to find myself looking for the _real_ killer and ending his life in the process." Running a hand down the side of his face, d'Artagnan couldn't stop the flow of words from coming out. "Along the way I proved a Musketeer innocent of the crime. I then went back to make sure the innkeeper had properly taken care of your burial only to discover you lived."

"I understand you thought me dead and you did what you thought was right at the time but this isn't the life I wanted for you, Charles."

"I disagree with you there." A stubborn set to d'Artagnan's face took hold. "Why then did you bother teaching me how to handle a sword in the first place?" Throwing his hands up in the air, he stared hard at papa. "To defend myself against the very few maladrins that crossed our path?"

"Every man should know how to wield a blade. Tis part of life," countered Alexandre. "Now I don't want to hear any more backtalk."

" _I'm eighteen years of age and can think for myself!_ " snapped d'Artagnan. " _This is what I want to do!_ " Twas like he'd never had said a thing. Eyes following papa, d'Artagnan watched his parent leave going straight into another room.

When Madame Barrière made an appearance by d'Artagnan's side her kind eyes held nothing but sympathy for him. "I'm almost sorry that his memories have mostly returned."

"Give him time," remarked Mabella. "I'm sure he'll come around."

"I may have to get Captain Treville to intervene for me." At first he'd been so filled with joy that papa knew who he was and now... now d'Artagnan didn't know what to feel.

++++

_Garrison canteen_

Sliding into the chair next to where Byron sat, Athos removed his chapeau. "Tell me… Is being stupid a profession or are you just gifted?"

Spitting out his coffee, Byron cringed in his seat. "I gather you know what happened."

"You are very lucky I don't challenge you to a duel even if there are edicts against it." Allowing his anger to show, Athos glowered at the the other Musketeer. _"You are the one with an older head upon your shoulders!"_ he snapped. "Did you perhaps lose it along the road somewhere?" Shoving his chair back Athos stood back up, his eyes cutting like a knife. "You should have shown more sense than what you did." He only took a few steps toward the door before he turned back around. "By the way... Porthos and Aramis are waiting their turns next."

Byron couldn't find the words to defend himself against the other man's anger. Athos had a point. He could have gotten both himself and the boy killed. Staring down into his now cold coffee, Byron knew he had a lot to make up for. Going about it was entirely another thing, however. Even Renault and Godard weren't speaking to him. Bien, perhaps after carrying out whatever punishment the captain came up with for him he'd be able to make amends with everyone concerned. What was it now that Athos said about Aramis and Porthos?

++++

_Notes:_

_Voleurs_ \- thieves  
_Maladrins_ \- brigands

 _Quote: "Never forget three types of people in your life. 1. Who helped you in difficult times. 2. Who *left* you in difficult times. 3. Who *put* you in difficult times."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Tell me… Is being stupid a profession or are you just gifted?"_ \- from https://www.coolnsmart.com/sarcastic_quotes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, still around three in the afternoon - Garrison canteen_

Coming out of the canteen, Byron cautiously looked around until he caught sight of both Aramis and Porthos. True to Athos' words, they appeared to be waiting for him. Aramis was speaking quite loudly, Byron was sure it was for his benefit alone. Oh oui, twas for his ears as the marksman's eyes flashed dangerously at him.

"You know, Porthos, a day without dealing with _stupid_ people is like," waving his hand in the air, Aramis glared at Byron, "bien, never mind. I'll let you know when it happens." Porthos' rough laughter brought about his own answering grin.

"I gather I'm one of those _stupid_ people you're referring to, Aramis." Having joined the other men, Byron figured twas best to get his humiliation over with.

"You should have known better. Did you forget to think before you leaped into their camp?" It wasn't that Aramis may have made the same call if facing the same situation but Byron had a recruit with him. Even though d'Artagnan had already proven his worth to the inseparables.

"I was cocky... I admit that."

"Captain dole out your punishment yet?" snapped Aramis, his patience already grown thin simply thinking about what could have happened.

"I'm still waiting." Grimacing, Byron couldn't meet their eyes.

"Ya know, Byron," a wicked glint appeared in Porthos' dark eyes, "I 'ave three sides." Crossing his arms, he stared hard at the other Musketeer. "The quiet and sweet side... the crazy and fun side..." towering over the other soldier now, he winked, "and the side ya never want ta see."

Gulping, Byron slowly backed away from the larger man. "I promise it won't... won't ever happen again."

"Look," Aramis' stance relaxed, knowing exactly how Byron felt right now, "we'll try being nicer if you try being _smarter_ next time."

"Trust me when I say that I've learned my lesson." Dipping his head, Byron beat a hasty retreat back toward the courtyard.

"Think he got our message, Porthos?" Feeling better now that was over, Aramis motioned to his friend for them to get moving along.

"If'n 'e didn't I don't mind remindin' 'im again." Following the marksman toward the practice areas, Porthos chuckled.

++++

_Garrison stables_

A short time later found a glum d'Artagnan sitting upon a broken bench in the stables where Zad quietly chewed away upon some hay. Feeling down in the dumps, he didn't pay any attention when someone slipped inside. Suddenly there were sounds of a throat clearing which in turn had d'Artagnan staring up into a pair of curious blue eyes.

"Dare I ask if your mood is because of your père?" His protégé had Athos more than worried. "Has his condition perhaps worsened?"

A bark of laughter erupted from d'Artagnan. "Completely the opposite." Throwing away a piece of straw he'd been picking away at, he offered up a sour smile to his mentor. "His memories have mostly returned." Feeling sorry for himself, d'Artagnan bitterly spat, "Once he's well to travel he wants us both to go back home."

"Understandable." Head nodding in thought, Athos could not help but note that there was more to it than what the pup had said. "Your père wants to get back to the farm to make sure things are running as they should. I am positive once he has settled back into his routine that you shall come back to us."

Gaining his feet, d'Artagnan went over to where Zad was and began running a brush down the horse's long, dark mane. "Athos, papa doesn't want me to become a Musketeer." His softly spoken words met silence. His mentor was a man of few words, for the most part. Usually Athos let his rapier speak for him. But this wasn't a matter for crossed swords to handle.

"You argued with him?" Of course the young Gascon would have done so. Coming up behind the boy, Athos placed a gentle hand upon the lad's back. "Give the man some time to come to grips with it."

Without turning around, d'Artagnan quietly murmured, "What do you suggest... a _year_? Because I doubt even that amount of time would be enough."

"I shall speak with him myself." His words did not appear to have any affect upon the youngster, as d'Artagnan kept grooming the horse.

"You'll have your work cut out for you then," angrily retorted d'Artagnan, throwing his brush into a nearby bucket. "When I told papa what I went through when thinking he was dead," tucking his hands underneath his armpits, d'Artagnan rocked back and forth, "he simply got up and walked into another room."

"Then wish me bonne chance, child."

"You'll need it." Watching his mentor's calculating look, d'Artagnan wondered what was going through the older man's mind. Whatever Athos was going to tell papa, he doubted twould make a difference. Still believing that the captain was the better possibility of convincing papa that he belonged here, d'Artagnan continued with grooming Zad.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

Staring up into his lieutenant's usually cool gaze, Treville sat back in his chair. "If it's about Byron I'm thinking of giving him two month's worth of palace guard duty for that stunt he pulled."

"Does that include parade duty as well?" Arching a brow, Athos was not in a forgiving mood.

"Oui. It does." One would have thought that a man of Byron's experience wouldn't have pulled such a boneheaded play. Treville only hoped the soldier would learn his lesson after this.

"Tis nothing more than he deserves but that is not what brought me here, Sir."

"Then go on I'm all ears, Athos."

"Did you know that d'Artagnan's père has regained his memories, or most of them?" Folding his arms, Athos noted the officer's startled expression. "Your reaction gives me my answer." When the captain offered him a chair he took it.

"That is excellent news." Happy for his old friend, Treville couldn't wait to go back to his home and see Alexandre again.

"Perhaps not for our young Gascon as Monsieur d'Artagnan told the boy that he did not want the lad to become a soldier. He would not even listen to him and stalked off." Athos figured he may as well inform Treville of what he planned to do. "I told the pup I would speak with his père and try to make the man see reason."

"Non, Athos." Standing up, Treville walked around his desk to perch upon its edge. "That is my duty alone. He and I had been friends for many a year. We grew up together... fought in the same wars of religion and bled together." Brows drawing together, Treville knew instantly why his friend didn't want d'Artagnan to become a Musketeer. Snapping his fingers, he went to get his cloak and chapeau. Throwing the cape over his shoulder, Treville waited for Athos to accompany him outside.

"You appeared to have come to a conclusion about something." Waiting for a response, Athos followed the captain down the steps.

"Indeed I have and it may be one that would require me to go into battle for the boy." Striding away to the stables, Treville left his lieutenant in a somewhat puzzled state. He'd explain all later. For now he had his own mission to accomplish.

++++

_Captain Treville's residence_

Entering his home Jean-Armand's eyes roamed the area as he stepped further inside. Waving to Madame Barrière, as her graying head poked out of the kitchen, he removed his cloak and chapeau. Throwing them onto the sofa he was about to go into Alexandre's room when Madame's voice stopped him.

"He's stretching his legs outside."

"Merci." Going in search of his old friend, Jean-Armand found him staring at nothing in particular. Alexandre was simply just standing there. "Deep thoughts?" Expecting some reaction, he was suddenly taken aback by the deep scowl covering the other man's features. "I understand you've recovered your memories or at least most of them." A jerky movement of Alexandre's head was the only response given. Frowning, Jean-Armand stepped closer. "I also heard that you don't want your son in my regiment... or rather should I say the _king's_ regiment."

"Charles tell you that," sharply snapped Alexandre. Not caring a fig that this was a man he grew up with.

"Non. Actually twas my lieutenant Athos that informed me." Standing by his friend's side, Jean-Armand noted the man's clenched fists. Apparently Alexandre wanted to take a swing at him. Pondering that he said, "D'Artagnan is Athos' protégé now."

"As soon as I'm well we'll both be out of your hair." Cursing softly, Alexandre grudgingly added, "my thanks for going to the trouble of taking care of me while I regain my senses."

"Mon ami," Jean-Armand settled a hand upon the other man's shoulder, "you and I share a history together. Twas not a hardship in any respect."

"Charles wasn't meant to be a soldier," huffed Alexandre. "If Françoise were alive she'd tell you the same." Alexandre's belligerent expression didn't change one iota.

"The boy handles himself quite well already and with more training d'Artagnan could end up being the finest Musketeer this regiment's ever seen." Jean-Armand's words apparently fell upon deaf ears but he plodded along. "Would you deny the lad the possibility of wearing this?" Tapping against his own pauldron that he wore proudly, Jean-Armand tried to get through to the stubborn man.

"You can't promise me that my child wouldn't end up in a war someday." Shaking his head, Alexandre looked away from his friend's narrowed gaze. "Matters with Spain are shakier than ever." Noting Jean-Armand's startled face, he sighed. "We're not all country bumpkins in Lupiac. Some of us even hear news from Paris upon the odd occasion." Alexandre harshly added, "I remember the wars you and I were involved in with great bitterness."

Regret filled Jean-Armand for he too thought back to those dangerous times. Twas the cause for Alexandre deciding not to bother entertaining the idea of becoming a Musketeer himself. "The boy is old enough to follow his own path."

"You mean follow the _wrong_ path... don't you?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jean-Armand realized that for now he should drop the subject. "I'm in need of a change of fresh clothes so I shall see you shortly before dinner." Perhaps Athos had the right of it and would be the better person to speak with Alexandre after all. With a heavy heart, Jean-Armand walked away from the person whom at one time was his very best friend.

++++

_Notes:_

_Bonne chance_ \- good luck

 _Quote: "A day without dealing with stupid people is like... never mind, I'll let you know when it happens."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I have three sides: 1. The quiet and sweet side. 2. The crazy and fun side. 3. The side you never want to see."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "I'll try being nicer, if you try being smarter."_ \- from Sarcastic Quotes and Sayings at www.coolnsmart.com.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early eve - Captain Treville's residence_

Mabella was getting used to soldiers coming and going in the house now. So with a bob of her head, and a knowing look, she let this one enter the house.

Removing his chapeau, Athos dipped his head. His sharp gaze took in everything in one glance. Twas not the first time in Treville's home but his task this day had nothing to do with a mission. Twas an assignment of a different nature.

"Don't tell me," Mabella's warm hazel eyes sparkled, "you're here to speak with Monsieur d'Artagnan."

Eyebrow arched high, Athos did not reply. Simply following through with another dip of his head, he followed her into the main room. Observing d'Artagnan's père staring up at a large painting hung above the fireplace, he cleared his throat several times.

Realizing he wasn't alone any longer, Alexandre turned around coming face to face with a Musketeer. "If you're looking for your captain I'm afraid he's not here."

"Non. I needed to speak with you, Monsieur." This was only his second time in this man's company. A niggling sense of doubt filled Athos, when Monsieur stared back at him with d'Artagnan's dark eyes.

"With me?" Motioning for the younger man to take one of the vacant chairs, Alexandre followed suit.

"My name is Athos," he dipped his head in respect. "I have come to tell you that twould be a great disservice to your son if you do not let d'Artagnan use his talents to become one of us." Taking a deep breath, he pressed on. "The lad is my protégé and a fine example of what a great Musketeer could be."

Waving the soldier's words away, with a weary hand, Alexandre expelled a long breath. "I didn't raise the boy all these years to simply hand him over to King Louis."

"Were you told what the pup has been through since believing you dead?"

"Oui," snapped Alexandre, getting tired of hearing the story.

"The last word upon your lips you whispered to the boy was... _Athos_."

" _Ah ha!_ " Clapping his hands, Alexandre stared hard at the Musketeer. "So you're the one Charles challenged to a dual and eventually helped to clear your name. It didn't hit me at first when you introduced yourself." Taking stock of the soldier, Alexandre admitted to himself that he liked what he saw.

"There was a rogue band of Red Guards out to blacken the Musketeer regiment. My name apparently was at the top of their list," added Athos bitterly.

"I gather there's still a lot of animosity between the king's men and Cardinal Richelieu's guards?" Some things never changed, Alexandre mused.

"Richelieu moves his Red Guards like pawns upon a chess board at the best of times. They serve only one purpose... _his own_."

"Bold words," murmured Alexandre, enjoying this man's conversation for the most part.

"But true never the less," retorted Athos with some heat.

"I appreciate you stepping forward in this manner but if Jean-Armand's words wouldn't sway me yours definitely won't."

"Is there nothing I could say or do to change your mind?" Disheartened, Athos felt powerless.

"I'm sorry but I firmly stand behind my reasons." Noting Athos appeared wanting to say something further, but held himself back, Alexandre stood up to approach the younger man.

When Monsieur d'Artgnan got to his feet, Athos did likewise. Unsure what to expect, he stood his ground as if waiting for an enemy's first strike.

Holding out a hand to shake, Alexandre realized that the Musketeer appeared apprehensive. "What were you expecting?" he chuckled "I'm unarmed."

Not knowing how to respond, Athos remained silent but shook the older man's hand.

"Charles has a good friend in you. Perhaps later you could come visit us back home."

Twas not what Athos wanted to accomplish this day. Having failed miserably, hopes dashed like a boat against rocks, he could not utter a sound. He would have loved to knock some sense into Monsieur's head but recent events proved that an unwise course of action. With a jerky nod, Athos turned around and quietly departed.

++++

_Next day - Garrison courtyard_

"You three," pointing toward the inseparables, Treville's gaze then locked upon d'Artagnan, "you as well and Gerard, Yvain, Sébastien..." his voice droned on until he had enough men for this latest detail. "His Majesty is expecting guests and will be receiving them in the Royal Garden this morn." Having dismissed the rest of his men, Treville paced up and down in front of his remaining soldiers. "I need every one of you to be upon your guard as the Comte de Saint Marc and his wife have had trouble of late with malcontents."

"Then tis not wise for them to be received here," voiced Athos.

"I agree but King Louis needed to speak with them over their problems." Not happy about this either, Treville only could do his utmost in protecting the royal couple and their visitors. Already upset over his lieutenant being unable to change Alexandre's mind in regards to d'Artagnan, he still wanted to include the lad in this detail. "They shall arrive in about an hour's time."

After the captain finished speaking, d'Artagnan took this opportunity to speak with Athos. "How did it go?"

Knowing to what the boy referred, Athos' lips thinned into a fine line. "Not well I am sorry to say." Disappointment clouded the pup's gaze, making him uncomfortable. Never good with handling emotions, he did not know how to make the lad feel any better. "Let us not dwell upon this for the time being. Perhaps after we are done with this assignment we could put our heads together to formulate another plan."

A squeeze to the back of d'Artagnan's neck had him glance to his right. Standing there, wearing a solemn look, was Aramis.

"Don't ruin a good today by thinking about a bad yesterday." Staring into their youngest's sad features, Aramis slowly smiled, gently squeezing the pup's neck again. "Let it go."

"I'll try." Twas not the time for his own problems. So d'Artagnan followed his brothers to the stable to get their horses ready.

++++

After they were all gathered together again Aramis spotted Yvain and Gerard having an animated conversation with d'Artagnan. Every now and again one of them would look back over at him. Very curious indeed. When the boy came back to join him, Aramis quipped. "Please don't tell me what they said about me," shooting both Gerard and Yvain amused glances, "just explain to me why they were so comfortable saying it around you."

Snickering softly, d'Artagnan grinned. "I'm easy to talk with. Didn't you know?" The marksman's eye roll made a snuff of laughter escape him. "Twould seem that Comtesse de Saint Marc is re-known for her beauty and Gerard and Yvain were simply describing her to me."

"Then why all those looks in my direction, lad?" Aramis knew there was more to it than that.

"Honestly, Mis," interrupted Porthos, "ya really 'ave ta ask?" His laughter amused the whelp.

With a rueful chuckle, at his own expense, Aramis understood. A warning glare from Athos had him hold up his hands in mock surrender. "Upon my honor I shall not disgrace the regiment this day." For some reason it appeared as if his friend didn't believe him, judging by the deepening of his brother's scowl. However, humming to himself, Aramis did admit to curiosity as to what the Comtesse looked like.

++++

_Royal Gardens_

Their Majesty's held court underneath a large white canopy, surrounded by the lovely flowers that had been carefully tended. A huge buffet had already been set up behind them. They had been conversing with the Comte and his lovely wife for the past half an hour since their arrival.

Standing at attention were all the Musketeers ordered for protection, along with the Red Guards.

Off to one side, d'Artagnan kept his eyes peeled for trouble. Which, as it happened, wasn't long in coming. He kept seeing sunlight, filtering through the trees, reflect off of something in the distance. Glancing around twould appear none of the other soldiers had taken note of it. Nervous energy ran throughout d'Artagnan's body, all senses alerted, feeling something about to go awry. When King Louis stood up to go to the buffet table twas then a feeling d'Artagnan had that told him to act now. Throwing himself bodily at His Majesty, much to the roars of astonishment from everyone about them, they hit the ground hard.

With an outrageous cry, King Louis found himself nearly smothered with another body planted atop of his own. All he could make out was a brownish colored doublet nearly preventing him to breathe. When the sounds of musket and pistol fire, along with clashing of steel, caught his full attention he realized what was happening.

With a shaky hand resting upon the king's chest, keeping the young monarch in place, d'Artagnan lifted his head back up to check if twas safe for His Majesty to get up. Upon noting every soldier engaged in battle, he dragged King Louis under the buffet table. With a finger to his lips, d'Artagnan silently told the the king to remain quiet. Before crawling out, he lifted the buffet's skirt up. A pair of booted feet immediately came into view. The footwear was not standard issue for either a Musketeer or Red Guard. Handing off his sword for the king to hold, d'Artagnan grabbed the unknown person by the ankles bringing the man down. A sound clocking to the back of their assailant's head had the man unconscious in seconds.

Holding out a hand for his weapon, d'Artagnan felt it slip into his own. Then he carefully got out from under their hiding spot to swiftly engage another canaille. When all was said and done he discovered that the queen, along with their high profiled visitors, had been quickly taken to safety within the palace walls. Helping His Majesty out, lifting the buffet's skirt, d'Artagnan offered his hand. Once back upon his feet, the young royal clapped d'Artagnan's shoulder.

"Later you shall tell me how you saw I was in danger." Wanting to call the boy by name, it occurred to King Louis that he didn't know who this one was. Looking around for his old fox, and finding him, he signaled for Captain Treville to make his way over. "I pride myself upon knowing my Musketeers but last time I visited the Garrison I didn't see this lad about."

Treville made the proper introductions and proceeded to explain who the boy was and how he came to be here with them.

"So twas you that helped proved Athos innocent." Beaming with pleasure, as King Louis always enjoyed a good story, his thoughtful gaze rested upon the young Gascon. "If you keep this up, d'Artagnan, it won't be much longer until you enter my regiment." After his words of praise, King Louis noted a look of great sorrow cross the boy's face. "Was it something I said?" Bewildered, he glanced at Treville for an explanation. When he received it, King Louis wasn't very well pleased with the answer. The lad hadn't moved from his side yet so looking the Gascon straight in the eyes he said, "Remember when people tell you what you should be doing with your life," King Louis shook the youth's shoulder, "they're really telling you what they'd like to be doing with theirs."

"Sire, papa was adamant in his decision. Neither the captain or Athos made any headway."

A strange look came and went in King Louis' dark eyes. "Then I think it time for an audience with your père."

Stunned, d'Artagnan sought the captain's help. Seemed the officer was just as surprised as he was and remained speechless. "Your Majesty, I don't know if that's going to help."

"Monsieur d'Artagnan fought alongside my old fox back in the day." Smiling to himself, King Louis stared fondly at Treville. "They kept each other alive against tremendous odds and helped defend France. That says quite a lot about each of them. Not to say that the other soldiers serving our country didn't do their part as well." Walking with them back to the palace, he placed his hand upon the boy's back. "I won't give up a young man as promising as you without a fight."

++++

_Notes:_

_Canaille_ \- scoundrel

 _Quote: "Don't ruin a good today by thinking about a bad yesterday. Let it go."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Please don't tell me what they said about me. Just explain to me why they were so comfortable saying it around you."_ \- from Aunty Acid.

 _Quote: "Remember when people tell you what you should be doing with your life, they're really telling you what they'd like to be doing with theirs."_ \- from Aunty Acid.


	10. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this story has come to an end. I hope everyone enjoyed it.
> 
> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, mid afternoon_

_Royal Palace_

"Charles, I don't understand why I'm here?" After all that had happened, Alexandre had changed his mind about the original reason he and his son had been traveling to Paris. So why did he now find himself going to have an audience with the king of France? It certainly wasn't going to be about the increase of taxes back in Lupiac. Not now because all he wanted to do was go home with his boy and take up his life as a farmer once more.

"King Louis was very impressed with young d'Artagnan after the lad saved His Majesty's life earlier today," remarked Jean-Armand to his old friend. "Tis a good omen."

"Papa, the king simply wanted to speak with you." Crossing his fingers behind his back, d'Artagnan hoped that His Majesty would be able to change papa's mind and thus he'd be able to stay and train.

"Tres bien." With an exasperated look at both men, Alexandre followed them both to the throne room.

++++

_Throne room_

King Louis drummed his fingers upon the armrest of his chair, while waiting to begin his audience. So when the doors opened to admit his old fox, d'Artagnan and the boy's père, he automatically stood up and met them halfway. Most eager to get this business settled, King Louis allowed himself a quick wink in the young Gascon's direction.

At His Majesty's approach, Alexandre stopped to bow. "Sire, tis an honor."

"I know," quipped King Louis, tongue-in-cheek, startling all three of them with the jest.

"Before you begin how are your guests doing," asked Treville, knowing how shook up the Comte and Comtesse were.

"The Comte and his wife are still unsettled but Anne's slowly easing their anxiety over what happened." Thinking back upon what nearly took place, King Louis' expression darkened. "I've begun measures that may help them in the long run and thus help myself from further near tragedies such as this morn."

Aware of what the young monarch spoke of, Alexandre exchanged a brief, if somewhat proud, smile with Charles.

"Which brings me to why I've summoned you here, Monsieur d'Artagnan." Looking the older Gascon in the eye, King Louis' gaze then shifted toward the lad. "You should be very proud of your son. He acquitted himself much as a Musketeer would have but without the benefit of a pauldron upon his shoulder."

"I thank you for your kind words, Your Majesty." Not believing the only reason he was here was to be congratulated for Charle's actions, Alexandre realized there was more at play here.

"I've been apprised of the situation that befell you both upon your journey here. I was amazed and delighted how d'Artagnan managed to help two of my top Musketeers clear Athos' good name." Clapping the boy's shoulder, King Louis showed again how pleased he was with the youth. "It showed initiative and great courage all the while thinking you had died."

"I admit I'm glad to be back amongst the living." Trying for humor too, Alexandre laughed lightly, as did the others.

"Er, Treville, why don't you go check with the Comte to see about making arrangements for their safe return home in a few days and take d'Artagnan with you."

"As you wish." With a brief nod at his friend, Treville and d'Artagnan departed the room.

"Now that tis just you and I, Monsieur, I wanted to speak with you privately." King Louis studied the older man, noting an air of resignation crossing his guest's face. "I want," then he paused for a second, "non I _need_ your son to remain here training to join my regiment."

"He is only eighteen. Too young to become a soldier, Sire."

"From what I understand you and Captain Treville were the same age when serving in the wars or religion," countered King Louis.

"Twas different back then." Alexandre was surprised how the young king had turned the tables upon him so fast.

"How so?" King Louis felt somewhat smug, knowing that Monsieur d'Artagnan wasn't expecting him to have known that fact.

"There was a shortage of military personnel under King Henry's rule at the time. The monarchy needed all able bodied men they could get and so Jean-Armand and I volunteered to do our duty." Rubbing the back of his neck, Alexandre wondered how he'd gotten into this position. "This... what happened to us since coming to Paris was a fluke." Not wanting to openly defy His Majesty, he was at a loss for the moment.

"However that may be," drawled King Louis, "d'Artagnan has made a niche for himself with us. He's well upon his way to becoming an excellent swordsman from what I've heard and not a cowardly bone in his young body." Trying to make his words count for something, King Louis pressed on. "Going after the real culprits masquerading as my men and now saving my life... not a small feat for someone merely eighteen years of age."

"You honor me with your words, Your Majesty, and it may appear to you as if I'm trying to tie the lad to my apron strings but the truth of the matter is I fear for his safety if France does indeed go to war. The other side of that coin is that he's my right hand helping me work our farm." It didn't seem as if Alexandre's protest made a difference, as the young king shook a finger back at him. "After all the farm would be his one day."

"I understand your fears, Monsieur, but the boy could just as easily meet a dire fate back home if you were attacked by maladrins." Trying not to upset the older man, King Louis' tone softened. "Also Treville's explained that you have retainers to help you with the farm and I sincerely doubt the vacancy left by your son would hurt you in the long run."

"You're really pushing for Charles to stay here and I'm finding myself in a difficult position." Honestly, Alexandre wasn't going to admit that much but he was beginning to flounder.

Feeling that the other man was upon the verge of capitulation, King Louis promised himself he wouldn't gloat. After all, _who_ in their right mind refuses a king's wish? "Would it make you feel any better that if things don't go well for your son I'll make sure the captain returns d'Artagnan safely home?"

King Louis usually tried to be accommodating when he truely wanted something and that _something_ this time was d'Artagnan. Trying to help his case along, he added, "The lad saved my life and tis not something I take lightly. France deserves men of his caliber." That may be laying it on a bit thick but having the young Gascon in his regiment would be worth it. Plus twould be a feather in his own cap being able to boast having two of the finest swordsmen in all of France.

"Your Majesty, you're making me feel like a parent that doesn't want the best for his child," huffed Alexandre, frustration filling him at this point.

"Is it working?" Tapping his chin, King Louis' dark eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Oui, much to my astonishment."

" _Excellent!_ " Ushering Monsieur out of the throne room, King Louis was very pleased with himself. He didn't realize how good at negotiating he really was. Something to remind Cardinal Richelieu about when King Louis wanted to be in charge of negotiations and not feel like a child being told to leave the room. "Let us now go find d'Artagnan and Captain Treville and tell them the good news."

++++

When they located Captain Treville, he had just finished speaking with the Comte and Comtesse over the matter of the malcontents that had been plaguing them. King Louis felt twas a good learning experience for d'Artagnan as well.

Leaving Queen Anne with the older couple, Treville and d'Artagnan stepped out into the hall to speak with the king and Alexandre. Treville noted how pleased with himself His Majesty appeared. Whispering in the young monarch's ear, he asked, "Things went as planned?"

Grinning, King Louis spoke softly, "Remember, my old fox, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." With a sly look, he added, "Of course, how you spend your leisure time is your business." Winking at his amused captain, he excused himself to join his wife and guests.

"Papa?" D'Artagnan impatiently wanted to know the outcome of the audience.

"Child, tis against my better judgment but I have the king's word that if this doesn't turn out to be the life you thought, that you could come home." With a rueful look at his son Alexandre then enfolded the boy in his arms, holding him tightly.

"Then all that's left is to make sure you make it back to Lupiac without another mishap." Happy that everything worked out in the lad's favor Jean-Armand led his old friend down the long corridors and out of the palace, with d'Artagnan trailing behind them.

++++

Once outside, Jean-Armand turned to look at Alexandre. "With His Majesty's permission you are to return home via one of our carriages." Holding up his hand at the first sign of protest, he chuckled. "This is non-negotiable."

"Then, mon ami, who am I to argue." Alexandre's laughter mixed with the others.

"I promise to write often, papa." D'Artagnan was so happy he could have done a dance right there in front of the palace, with the royal guards looking on.

"You better or you may find myself paying a visit to the Garrison to check up on you." Noting a look of horror overcoming Charles, Alexandre nearly burst out laughing again. "I shall be returning back to Jean-Armand's house to get my things together for the journey home." Going to where their horses were kept, Alexandre went over to the one he'd been given.

"Be careful. I don't need you falling off your horse and getting hurt again," warned d'Artagnan rather playfully.

"Don't get too big for your britches just yet." Shaking his head, murmuring under his breath about overprotective children, Alexandre carefully mounted his horse.

++++

_Shortly after - Garrison courtyard_

Going to locate Athos first, d'Artagnan literally jumped from Zad's back before the horse had even stopped. Handing him off to the stable boy, he raced through the courtyard to locate his mentor. When spotting the older man, d'Artagnan had to wait until Athos finished his sparring match with Victor.

Wiping sweat from his forehead, Athos gave his young friend a smile. "You look happy."

"The king spoke to papa and changed his mind." Hugging Athos, d'Artagnan forgot himself knowing his brother didn't go for those type of gestures. Stepping back, he shyly ducked his head. When not a word of censure came from his mentor, d'Artagnan glanced up deeming it was safe to do so. Noting Athos staring back at him, with an amused twist to his lips, he chirped, "I wanted you to be the first to know. Uh, aside from the captain of course who was there with us."

Athos was indeed pleased for the young Gascon. The boy showed so much promise. He was glad that King Louis realized that too and acted upon it. "This is a cause for celebration."

"Papa's going to be leaving soon and I want to be with him as long as possible before he goes. Perhaps afterwards?"

"Of course, child." Walking over to one of the empty benches, Athos placed his sword on top of it. It would need cleaning again. "I believe there are two others you want to tell your good fortune too."

"Do you know where they are?" Looking around him, d'Artagnan didn't see either Aramis nor Porthos in the vicinity.

"Porthos actually had an errand to do and is due back shortly." Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Athos tried to remember where the marksman was. "Ah! Now it comes to me. Aramis is at the armory making sure all is as it should be."

"Merci." Still riding a high, d'Artagnan took off in the direction of the armory.

++++

_Armory_

Aramis wondered what in the world was going on. Just as he was leaving the armory, he had been hit by a heavy object. His chapeau askew, feather dangling in his face, he couldn't even see what he was dealing with at first. That was until _it_ began to speak. Recognizing their youngest babbling away, Aramis placed both hands upon the lad's shoulders to gently push the boy off. "Twould be nice of you to let me breathe for a minute, d'Artagnan." The blush that stole up the pup's face was priceless but he stifled his amusement for he gathered what had brought the Gascon here was of great import.

" _I'm staying, Aramis! I'm staying!_ "

"I say that is grand news." Throwing his arms around the youngster, this time twas Aramis' turn to wrap the lad up in a tight hug. "Do the others know yet?"

"Captain Treville was with me when King Louis wanted to speak with papa so he knows. Then I told Athos and now you. Porthos isn't here."

"Do you want to go out tonight to The Wren for a meal and a few drinks? My treat." Aramis was pleased for the boy. D'Artagnan deserved to be one of them.

"Athos suggested something similar but papa will be leaving in a day or so and I want to be with him until he does for as long as I can. Once he departs, if you still want to we could make arrangements."

"Of course. Twould be something to look forward too." Throwing a casual arm across the pup's shoulder, Aramis led them back toward the courtyard.

++++

_Garrison courtyard_

By the time Aramis and d'Artagnan entered the courtyard, Porthos had returned. D'Artagnan, still filled with excitement, seeing the larger man immediately ran over to him. When he'd told his brother he was staying, Porthos lifted him high into the air, swinging d'Artagnan around as if he were a doll. " _Porthos!_ I'm happy you're happy for me but if you keep this up I shall be sick." Instantly his feet touched the ground. Swaying a bit, Porthos' hand reached out to steady him.

"Tis the best news I've 'eard all day, whelp." Rubbing his hands together, Porthos grinned. "Now I've got a reason ta spend my winnin's tonight."

"Lucky were you last eve?" asked Aramis, knowing exactly what his friend had been doing.

"There's a sucker born everyday, Mis." Amused at how the card game had gone down, Porthos caught the steely look Athos sent him and instantly became quite contrite. "Er, what I meant ta say was that the Red Guards are poor card players."

"I am _sure_ that was what you were going to say." His stern look had yet to waver from his brother. Athos should know by now that telling Porthos not to cheat was a waste of time and energy. "Anyway d'Artagnan is going to wait until his père leaves for Lupiac before we can go out together."

"I can wait," said Porthos. "But what made your père change 'is mind?"

"King Louis had an audience with him. Afterward papa didn't elaborate but I'm guessing His Majesty really must have stressed how much he wanted me to become a Musketeer."

"It helped that you saved the king's life today," offered Athos, feeling nothing but proud. "I am quite sure that went a long way toward convincing your père that your talents are needed here with us."

"Ya know, Athos, ya do 'ave a nice way with words."

Dipping his head at his friend, Athos then noted the pup looked like he wanted to dart off again. "Places you need to be, d'Artagnan?"

"There are a few others I'd like to tell." Even though d'Artagnan hadn't been here very long, he'd made friends with a number of recruits and Musketeers.

"Off with you then, child." The dirt underneath the boy's feet nearly caught fire with the speed in which the lad had taken off.

The inseparables stood there watching the young Gascon fly across the courtyard, as if he'd grown wings. All three of them began laughing, thinking how much richer their lives were going to be now with having d'Artagnan around.

The End

++++

_Notes:_

_Tres bien_ \- very well

_Maladrins_ \- brigands

_Quote: "Remember you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Of course, how you spend your leisure time is your business."_ \- from Maxine.


End file.
